


13 | Ever ours (Epilogue)

by ELC01



Series: It’s you [13]
Category: Harry Styles (Fandom), Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ELC01/pseuds/ELC01
Summary: With such a magnetic attraction, they could afford to wait for their perfect moment.So, when the time is right, Harry and Eloise finally get to embark on something magical together.Navigating their blossoming relationship through tours and a burgeoning new career, the hiatus and new directions, they experience all manner of highs and lows.They'll face revelations and illnesses, break ups and make ups, weddings and anniversaries. But whose?>Thirteenth in a series of interconnected select moments, exploring the developing relationship between Harry and Eloise.This final instalment takes place from September 2019 to November 2020 , picking up right after all the events of the preceding chapters:'1 | Back to you (Prologue)'‘2 | You, again’‘3 | You & I’‘4 | You with me’'5 | You without me''6 | Back to you'‘7 | Adore you’‘8 | Only you’‘9 | All yours’'10 | With you'’11 | You’re it’’12 | Forever yours’.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Series: It’s you [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528811
Comments: 14
Kudos: 11





	1. Part A

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended as an exercise in character development and descriptive writing. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Harry features heavily - because he's incredibly charismatic and so talented - but I feel a little out of my comfort zone writing RFC, so will be mindful to be as respectful as possible.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no links to Harry or any of his associates. Rather, I am just borrowing him and them as familiar points of reference for not-for-profit artistic license.

A/N 1: Here it is, the beginning of the (very) end! I had to take a few liberties with the timeline, but you'll soon see why... I hope you enjoy it! Xx

Late September 2019 to late February 2020

Having set off from Maiori a couple of days after the wedding, Harry and Eloise made a slight detour via Lake Como, before leaving Italy on their way home to London.

Despite the discrete, luxurious villa on the water's edge, they barely left the bedroom, but couldn't have enjoyed their five-night "mini-moon" more. A little self-indulgent alone time was more than deserved after their hosting duties over the previous week.

They'll have a few days in the Caribbean after Christmas too, but are delaying their proper honeymoon until a break during Harry's tour. They've yet to make a final decision, but mooted finally getting to enjoy the Japanese cherry blossoms together.

They were wise to make the most of some final quiet time whilst they still could.

Since returning back to London in early October, they were both thrown straight back into the deep end, frantically busy with work.

Harry was snowed under with meetings and sign-offs, prior to kicking off promotion of the new single with a vengeance.

Eloise was busy prepping for the second block of filming for season three of Killing Eve, but managed to tag along with him as much as possible for the first couple of weeks.

It was a masterful publicity campaign - right from the initial unbranded 'Do You Know Who You Are?' posters popping up in cities around the world, and the accompanying positive affirmation generating website, to the Lights Up music video - setting a whole new benchmark for the industry and establishing an irresistible new visual aesthetic.

>

As October slipped into November, Harry fielded a couple of days of FaceTime interviews with various UK radio breakfast shows.

He may or may not have been wildly distracted by his sexy new wife, and only just had time to fire up his laptop with seconds to spare.

Predictably, the various DJs all delighted in commenting on the lilac dressing gown he'd hastily shrugged on whilst trying to tame his wildly tousled hair, and cheekily queried if he was wearing anything else. If only they knew he was still half-hard and trying to avoid getting distracted by a very naked Eloise on the other side of their bedroom.

But it wasn't until the third interview, for Capital, that the eagle-eyed Roman Kemp spotted his shiny new wedding ring.

Entirely used to wearing it by now, Harry hadn't even thought to take it off or keep it hidden. But, caught red-handed - so to speak - he couldn't exactly deny it, and was grateful to get to give the exclusive to a friend.

With a smug grin, he confirmed that they'd been married for over a month now, but swerved revealing any other details, suffice to say that it was perfect and they're incredibly happy.

He and Eloise had been stunned to have successfully kept it under wraps for so long. Somehow no one had noticed when he'd appeared on stage with Kacey a few days beforehand.

But, once it was out, the news certainly broke the Internet - trending worldwide in mere minutes - and, predictably, the remaining interviewers all needed some prompting to ask about the music rather than just the wedding.

With fans and the media all clamouring for more information, it wasn't long before their proud and excited friends starting posting some celebratory photos and clips to Instagram, gushing thanks and best wishes.

Some of Harry's more ardent fans gave Eloise some grief on social media, but, for the most part, the reaction was overwhelmingly positive. It seemed to reinforce their status as one of London and Hollywood's most well-liked 'It' couples and an emerging power-duo, straddling the music, film, fashion and celebrity worlds.

>

In mid-November, Harry headed to New York City for double duty as host and musical guest on Saturday Night Live. Eloise tried desperately to have her shoot schedule adjusted to be able to be there to support him in person, but they just couldn't make it work.

Instead, she FaceTimed him as much as possible during the run up, keeping tabs on their progress and helping him rehearse his monologue and skits; then watched it live in the middle of the night, with Anne and Gemma round for a sleepover - all roaring with laughter and bursting with pride.

Later that month, with his Zane Lowe interview released for Apple Music and amidst the hysteria over the Eroda website, he headed to Berlin and Paris for early album listening parties with select lucky fans.

In early December, he released the Adore You music video ("Wait, so am I the bloody fish?!", Eloise had heckled, whilst absolutely loving it), performed live on various TV shows, and smashed an extended set at Capital's Jingle Bell Ball.

Upon wrapping the second block of her shoot schedule, Eloise flew to LA alongside Harry.

First and foremost, they met Grace - Ben and Mer's new daughter, born just the week before. The visit synced well to let them make a fuss of Ruby at her second birthday party too.

On the 9th of December, Harry returned to the Late Late Show again, filling in as both host and musical guest, with some pre-recorded Carpool Karaoke and Crosswalk Concert segments with James too.

Then, just four days later, on the day of the album's release, he made a triumphant return to The Forum, performing all his new songs from Fine Line, live for the first time.

Heading straight back to London, Eloise was at his side for his BBC Radio One Live Lounge session, and an appearance at his pop-up shop in Camden Market, and then at his secret London gig at the Electric Ballroom.

>

Finally done for Christmas, they collapsed in a proverbial heap for a few days' respite from their frantic schedules. Entirely well-deserved, their incredibly busy Autumn had proved phenomenally successful, on all fronts.

After heading north to spend Christmas in Holmes Chapel, they then flew to the Caribbean to snatch a few days' holiday with Adele and the Corden's in Anguilla.

On New Year's day, Eloise flew back to London for the final block of filming for Killing Eve, whilst Harry headed west to LA.

After filming the joyous video for Watermelon Sugar on the beach in Malibu, he headed to Palm Springs to start filming a movie of his own.

Seeing Eloise juggling scripts had already had him yearning to dip a toe back into acting sooner rather than later. And then he'd been collared by both his acting agent and Florence at the wedding. It was all a bit unexpected and definitely a headache to squeeze into his busy schedule, but with an amazing team and a high-profile role in a great story, with amazing aesthetics, Harry just couldn't turn Don't Worry Darling down.

After wrapping his first block of shooting, he got soggy again filming the video for Falling. It seems to be a recurring theme in all his music videos now - must be the Aquarius in him.

>

Harry finally made it back home to London for belated birthday celebrations in early February. It felt doubly disappointing to have been apart when his Miami concert the night beforehand was cancelled at the last minute due to a storm.

They were finally able to move into the new house too. Despite some of the decoration still to be finished, with the renovations complete, it made sense to make the most of a couple of free days in their schedules to oversee things - even just moving around the corner.

But they didn't have any real time to celebrate - his birthday or the new house - before he was straight back to it, filming the top-secret video for Treat People With Kindness. Phoebe's involvement had been Eloise's idea, after he'd proposed that maybe she could feature. She'd seriously considered it, and would ordinarily jump at any opportunity to spend more time with him, but, ultimately, she wriggled out of it - nervous of a backlash, and her involvement possibly detracting from some fans' enjoyment of what promises to be a masterpiece.

Mid-February was then hectic too, with live performances and radio interviews, and then the shock tragic news about Caroline Flack breaking just before the BRIT Awards.

Finally, making the most of some precious downtime together, Eloise whisked Harry away for a surprise long weekend in a little cottage at a wilderness retreat, deep in the Suffolk countryside - for a belated birthday celebration, and the chance to focus on each other with no distractions, before he was due to return to New York and then LA again.

>  
>

25th February 2020

Having only returned home from their mini-break just two days ago, Eloise clings on to the last vestiges of sleep in stubborn, silent protest.

Like everyone else, they'd been following the news and worrying developments closely, and she'd been utterly convinced that his second block of filming for Don't Worry Darling would be postponed.

She'd been feeling a bit under the weather too, so it stung all the more to fall into bed together one final time last night, with his packed bags waiting mockingly by the bedroom door.

Despite feeling less than gung-ho about it all himself, contractually, he has no choice. And with his tour looming in a couple of months, he's conscious that it's him that's causing the scheduling pressure anyway, so refuses to kick up a stink about it. Anyway, he has some more promo to do in New York and Washington DC en route to LA, so he'd have to leave anyway.

But that doesn't exactly do much to help alleviate the prospect of yet more time apart.

Once it was looking inevitable, Eloise focused on her schedule instead, trying to find a way to go with him; but she has to be in London for the next couple of weeks at least.

She's locked in tense negotiations, and NDA'd up to her eyeballs, for a prospective huge new role. The storyline is so top-secret that even Charles, and Harry (by extension, as her partner and named confidant) had to sign their life away with watertight NDAs too. It's incredibly exciting, but the timing stinks.

She can feel tears pooling in her eyes before she's even opened them.

"Come on... Wakey, wakey, my love". Harry coos, dropping down from all fours to rest his weight against her and nuzzle his face into her neck - upping the ante on trying to get his goodbye.

"Nope", she pouts stubbornly, eyes still firmly closed. "You won't leave without saying goodbye, so if I don't wake up you can't leave", she mumbles lowly. Failing to suppress a full-body stretch, she shifts enticingly below him as she lifts a hand to run through his errant curls.

He groans at her effectively writhing up against him. "Fuck, you're making this even harder than usual, baby".

Unable to contain her scoff at his double entendre, she unwittingly peels her eyes open, locking on to his intense gaze - a rich forest green early morning in the pale wintery light.

Those hypnotising eyes get closer and closer, before fluttering teasingly shut as he leans in for a kiss.

Despite her sleepiness, reflexively, she quickly recoils.

"Whoa, what?", Harry pulls back with a furrow forming between his eyes; wide open again in shock. She never refuses him, ever.

"Eurgh!", she winces.

It's his turn to scoff. He's run out of time for more delaying tactics or dramatics. "Nice", he snarks, rolling his eyes as he pops back up on to all fours. "Love you too, babe".

"My car's here... I'll be gone in two minutes", he throws over his shoulder as he leaves their bedroom to start hauling his bags down the stairs.

>

It's only after their final hug and kiss as she bid him goodbye on the doorstep, begging him to be careful, and once she'd glumly settled down at the kitchen island and sipped her coffee - with disastrous consequences - that an inkling of suspicion dawns on her.

Holy shit.

Sitting back on her haunches, she stares at the mess she'd unwittingly made of his favourite lilac hooded dressing gown and the floor in shock.

She bloody loves coffee. The taste, the smell, the jolt of energy as caffeine floods her system...

It turning her stomach was pretty damning in itself, but that the smell alone could actually make her recoil from Harry's kiss earlier all but confirms it. She'd been feeling tired and achy too.

Still queasy and shaky - not least after the effort to clean up the kitchen and herself - she settles heavily into her favourite spot, on the orangery side of their huge kitchen, on the sofa by the doors out to the patio, distractedly looking out over the garden.

From suspicion to disbelief to curiosity to nervousness to surprise to an unexpected but overwhelming feeling of joy, she takes her time to process it.

Then, queen of surprises, she can't help but start daydreaming about how she might tell him. If it's what she thinks it is.

It will be tough to keep her suspicions quiet in the meantime, but, pending confirmation and, of course, waiting to see if her period arrives in a few weeks, the wait would be more than worth it.

>  
>

14th March 2020

Utterly distracted, their three weeks apart had somehow both dragged and flown by for Eloise.

In contrast, poor Harry has barely had time to sit down. From New York, for high-profile performances on the Today Show, SiriusXM, Howard Stern, and then an iHeart Secret Session at the Bowery Ballroom, he then travelled south to DC to perform a few songs for NPR too.

From there, he'd headed straight to LA and started filming the movie again the very next day. He's had no time to himself, but more than enough to miss Eloise terribly. The eight-hour time difference never helps.

She's almost certain now.

She's still tired and achy, but now her boobs are tender, and she's been uncharacteristically warm. And she can't even bear the thought of coffee now. When the smell of ginger tea proves unpalatable too, after some more desperate Googling, she resorts to guzzling chalky Extra Strong mints in a bid to keep the queasy churning of her stomach at bay.

Keen to avoid being seen at a pharmacy, for fear of being spotted and any subsequent speculation or gossip, she'd ordered some pregnancy tests online. Okay, six.

They arrived yesterday; just in time for her period, due today.

Practically wearing down the freshly sanded wooden floorboards of the downstairs of the house with her pacing, she attempts to distract herself, obsessively watching the news and scrolling through social media.

But, desperate and all out of patience, she only manages to hold out until lunchtime.

Then, after awkwardly weeing into a cup and then the longest couple of minutes' wait of her life, everything changes in an instant.

Whoa.

One test is apparently entirely faulty and offers no reading at all.

One is inconclusive, somehow indicating both positive and negative.

But there are four definitive yes'.

Holy shit.

>

She stares in disbelief - not quite able to believe her eyes, despite how sure she'd been.

Distractedly mulling it all over, she does the maths again.

Her contraceptive implant should have been good until June.

But, ah... Birthday sex.

She's almost sure of it.

That remote little cabin-like cottage for a belated celebration a few of weeks after Harry's birthday. Given the abysmal, practically apocalyptic weather, they'd bunkered down in front of a roaring fire and barely left the bed for three days... She wasn't sure what came over either of them, but after entirely losing count of orgasms, suffice to say he'd had no qualms in declaring it his best birthday ever.

In hindsight, it probably was a lot to ask of her ageing implant. Oops.

Still perched at the dressing table in their ensuite bathroom, she's pulled from her swirling thoughts as her phone bleats again.

Assuming she must have accidentally just snoozed the timer, she leaps up in surprise to see that it's Harry calling.

Her jumbled thoughts carry on their merry jig.

God, this man's sixth sense is fucking unparalleled.

But what time is it out in LA? Like 5am or something crazy?

She remembers he promised he'd call to confirm his travel plans. Production had finally been shut down the day before yesterday, in line with industry stipulations, given the mounting concerns around the pandemic.

Her excitement only grows.

After taking another second to try to school her emotion and expression and voice, to avoid giving the game away, she's entirely distracted all over again, in an instant, as soon as he answers. She certainly wasn't expecting the devastated tone to his voice, spewing apologies.

What the fuck?

As her world tilted on its axis, it seems the actual world did too.

Despite the warring emotions clouding her brain, she snatches enough words in his jumbled babbling to make it out.

With a seat on a later flight, but chancing his luck, waitlisted for a delayed earlier flight, he'd been on his way to LAX when he heard the news, and soon arrived there to utter pandemonium.

All international flights are grounded, thanks to an unforeseen travel ban - both commercial and private - with immediate effect and no advance notice.

It looks like he's stuck out there, for the foreseeable future.

They're both absolutely devastated at the prospect of their separation being further prolonged, but, with all things considered, simply have to adhere to the new rules, just like everyone else.

In desperation, he'd even called the UK Embassy; but, unsurprisingly, given everything already on their plate, was told to just wait it out and keep an eye out for any news and developments.

It's a doubly hard pill for Eloise to swallow. Having struggled to keep her assumptions - now literally just confirmed - under wraps for a few weeks already, she quickly has to make the agonising decision to keep the exciting news to herself for a little while longer.

How much would be anyone's guess, but surely this mayhem has to be brought under control soon?

>  
>

Mid-March to mid-April 2020

Having had his own schedule cleared for the now shut down movie, and with the entire entertainment industry in disarray, Harry doesn't have much to do but bum around Jeff and Glenne's house, where he'd already been staying, prior to the travel ban.

Like everyone else, he watches the unfolding developments on the news in disbelief. Trying to keep on top of both US and UK media outlets is practically a full-time job in itself.

As the enormity of the global pandemic hits home, after a frantic week or so of logistics and negotiating shuffling dates, he has to announce rescheduling the tour, pushing it back by a whole year. He was so excited to hit the road again, and for all the special surprises they had in store for his loyal and eager fans, but he knows it's the right decision; the only decision. He hadn't hesitated for a second about paying his crew regardless, either.

Then, with their pressing actual urgent work out the way, stir craziness seems to kick in worryingly quickly. In amongst running errands for Stevie, and other more vulnerable LA friends, and songwriting, and exercising, and going for long walks, and long rides via car, motorbike or bicycle, and watching the news and obscure movies and box sets, they soon get weirdly obsessive over bread, of all things.

'Sourdough, sex and sun salutations' is Harry's new mantra.

He's stir crazy, and bored, and horny, and definitely feeling the distance from his beautiful new wife.

>

Eloise has never, ever had to fake it with him before, but just as he's proving undeterrable, nothing's further from her own mind.

Having to dig deep to put in passable performances, she's got away with it a few times already; however, when she overestimates just how close he is to coming, and pauses to desperately swallow down another dry heave, he cottons on.

Tightening his right fist around his base, he cuts himself abruptly off with a wince. "Say 'Oh, yeah', baby", he grunts.

"Mmm-hmm...", she sighs, eyes screwed shut but totally distracted.

"Say it...", he presses.

"Hmm?", she frowns.

"Gimme an 'Oh, yeah'".

"Oh, God, H, what? Really? Come on, you're distracting me".

"Oh, really, am I? Well from what, because I'm pretty sure it's not me?", he huffs, shoulders slumped in defeat, tellingly lifting his right hand to rake through his hair.

Lockdown surprise number sixty-two?

The evidently veritable acting chops of some porn stars... Who'd have thought it?

>

Returning to the kitchen, where the others are perving over their latest and best batch of sourdough yet, fresh out the oven, Harry huffs as he takes a seat on a stool at the island.

But the glorious carbs do nothing for his mood, this time.

Jeff and Glenne cast eyes at the third sigh, but his younger brother beats them to it. "So... How's that hot, sexy wife?".

"Oh, fuck off!", Harry snaps back.

Jeff raises an eyebrow at him repeatedly jabbing a knife into the butter. "Seriously, you okay, bro?".

He takes the bait. "No, I'm bloody not okay! I can't believe it...", he flicks wary eyes to the others, before honing in on Jeff, lowering his voice. "I just caught El trying to, well, fake it... Fuck". He drags a hand through his hair again.

"Ah, a bruised ego...", Glenne grimaces.

"And fair enough, man", Jeff's brother is more sympathetic this time. "That shit hurts".

"Well I wouldn't bloody know, thanks very much!", Harry sasses back again.

Glenne can't help but snort a laugh.

"What?", Harry narrows his eyes at her at the same time as Jeff whips his head around to her, accusingly. His brother just laughs with glee, enjoying this no end.

"Oh, H, come on! You've been together, what, five years? And married for almost six months-".

"What's that got to do with anything?", Harry gapes, affronted.

He's cut off by Jeff, similarly horrified. "What does that fucking matter? We've been together longer!".

"Guys, seriously?! H, I hate to break it to you, but that surely cannot be the first time she's faked it, in all that time?".

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?", Jeff's splutters, with a pink flush rapidly creeping up his neck.

"Yes it can!", Harry protests. "What the fuck are you saying? I think I'd know-".

"Well, she is an actress-", Jeff's brother cuts back in, delighting in the snippy back and forth.

"I'm positive that not even she is that good. She'd deserve every fucking Oscar on the planet-".

"Okay, stop! We don't need the ins and outs-", Jeff tries to calm things down, before they all snigger childishly at his unintended pun. "What happened just now? And, please, try to spare us the gory details", he holds his palm up.

Harry groans dramatically, spinning around on his barstool before scrubbing a hand over his face. "Okay, so I noticed she was distracted and called her on it... She said she wasn't in the mood but didn't want to let me down, and that she's not feeling great and something about dodgy salmon. She looked like she was going to puke even talking about it... God, I feel awful; like I coerced her into it or something? But if I knew she wasn't well I'd never have-". He drops his head to his hands, only for his phone to sound in his pocket.

Swiping to her message, he then turns his phone around to them with his lips downturned in sympathy. Eloise had sent a rare selfie - in bed, hugging his pillow with a sad pout on her face, looking decidedly peaky and exhausted.

"H, she looks terrible! How didn't you realise?", Glenne chastises him. "And she's already in bed at, what, 7pm?".

"Don't make me feel worse! She does look a bit rough, doesn't she?". He twists his phone back, looking back over the photo and her message. "And, ha...!", he levels at Jeff's brother as he taps on her name. "She swears she's never faked it before, and never will again".

"My poor baby-", he coos down the phone at her, as he twists off the stool and heads for the living room, away from the now bickering Jeff and Glenne.

"I really, really am sorry, H... I hate that you're mad, and I promise I'll never do that again-", she insists, albeit with a notable wobble to her voice.

"Stop! I'm only mad at myself if you felt I pressured you into anything... Baby, please, always tell me how you're feeling... It's so much harder not being together-".

Her amused snort at yet another pun sets him off too. When his chuckle tails off he sighs again. "Fuck... I really miss you, you know? I love you, so much... Sleep well. Get some rest, and call me if you need me".

She swallows thickly before letting out a sigh of her own, hating every little white lie she's had to tell him. They're starting to rack up, and she doesn't enjoy feeling guilty.

"I will... I love you too, so much, baby". But, that? Absolutely no word of a lie.

After hanging up, she stares moonily at his sleepy photo on her lock screen for a beat, then rubs her still flat tummy. "And I love you too, little baby", she whispers quietly. That's no lie either; she can but hope.

>  
>

2nd May 2020

Their separation was increasingly miserable - especially for Eloise, as she starts to feel even worse and with London fully locked down.

Sod's law, she started feeling really rough - exhausted, and vomiting far more frequently than 'morning' sickness would have led her to believe - just as she had a busy week, juggling promo and interviews over Zoom ahead of Killing Eve season three premiering in mid-April. Their shameless questioning about their wedding and marriage does little to help her mood.

Around the same time, but half a world away, when they should have been heading out for Love on Tour, Harry packed up his things to stay with Mitch and Sarah - to mix things up a bit and give Jeff and Glenne a break. Also, Sarah's intolerant to gluten, and he thinks swerving carbs for a bit might prove prudent.

>

Eloise desperately looks forward to her many, many FaceTime calls with Harry, but, at the same time, dreads having to summon some non-existent energy to pretend to feel better than she really is.

Now in the full-on 'morning' sickness phase, she's struggling to keep almost anything down, and feeling weak and completely out of sorts with debilitating fatigue.

After peddling the 'dodgy salmon' story for what would have had to be the longest bout of food poisoning ever, she suggested to Harry it must have developed into the full-blown flu.

Thousands of miles away, he can only worry, especially after she'd had that bug just a couple of months ago. But, understandably, he shares her concerns about wanting to avoid an unnecessary trip to the doctor's right now.

He insists she should call whenever she needs him, any time - eight hour time difference be damned.

But him sending her the early audio of his Calm Sleep Story lends some precious comfort. It's not due to be released until July, but having his deep, slow, soothing voice on tap is like a balm to her frazzled mind and body.

She loses track of the number of times she plays it as she drifts off to sleep. It's so effective she has to mix it up and start it later on, otherwise she never seems to make it past the first few minutes. And she swears she can hear the smirk in his voice as he reads the line about the cabin with a fireplace.

But, God, it feels like forever since she's seen him; since she's fallen asleep with him and then woken up in his arms...

And has he always been so Northern? She's impressed he managed to swerve any of those pesky lilting vowels that can sneak in when he's in the US too long. That would have made him feel even further away.

She'll have to remember to thank Sarah for her positive influence.

>

Eloise's mood isn't helped when the media - still grasping for content - hone in on their separation, just six months after their surprise marriage. They make up non-stories, speculating on their relationship and if he could have tried harder to make it home. Ouch.

She's been raiding his wardrobe with abandon lately... Anything to feel a little bit closer to him. His pale yellow and blue checked Bode jacket is a particular favourite - warm, snuggly, comfortably oversized, it smells comfortingly like him. And she may or may not have been spritzing it with his Tom Ford cologne too.

Christ; she misses him something fierce.

Ironically, she's the one feeling isolated - despite her being the one home in London.

She doesn't admit it to Harry, for fear of making him feel worse, but she's feeling more than a bit lonely.

Her parents are stuck in Sweden; Malin too. Lucas is down in Bath; and Ollie is in Sydney, after getting stranded there whilst visiting a potential new girlfriend, whilst sidelined from training with a broken foot.

Ben, Mer and the girls are in LA; as are Rosie and Adele.

Gemma and Michal were on the other side of London, but then relocated to Holmes Chapel, to be with Anne.

Still puking her guts up, Eloise can neither risk any of them finding out before Harry, nor inadvertent exposure to the virus.

But Niall - bless him - has stopped by a few times, whilst out on his epic long bike rides. He's adorably loved up, but missing Malin badly.

So when the doorbell rings, Eloise assumes it's either him again, or just another courier with another random delivery, arranged by Harry in yet another attempt to cheer her up.

When she opens the door, she's surprised and overjoyed to find a very familiar, but unexpected face.

>

It's Anne - who a worried Harry had asked to pay a visit.

Upon news of the initial easing of lockdown, she'd headed straight down.

A hormonal mess, Eloise promptly bursts into tears.

With just one look inside the fridge as she sets about making them some tea, Anne whirls around in shock.

Clocking the pregnancy vitamins on the windowsill, she quickly dashes back over to the sofa in the corner of the kitchen, to crouch in front of Eloise. "Oh, my darling! Are you-?".

She doesn't even need to ask.

They share a long and tight hug, both crying; totally overwhelmed and overjoyed.

"You haven't told him?", Anne guesses, wincing sympathetically.

"I can't!", Eloise wails through her sniffles. "Not until he's back home; it's not fair... I don't want to get his hopes up until I know for sure, but I don't want to know for sure until he's here with me". She blubs, bold blue eyes still swimming with tears.

"Oh, poppet! This is a huge something to have had to keep to yourself". A few tears still slip down Anne's cheeks too; heart simultaneously breaking and bursting for her, for them.

"I'm terrified something will go wrong...", Eloise admits. "After last time", she sobs again.

"Do you know how far along you might be?", Anne's maternal instincts come to the fore, squeezing her hand tightly.

"Ten weeks, I think?".

"And how long has the sickness been bad for? There's absolutely nothing in the fridge and you look skinny, love... Have you gone to the doctor?".

Eloise wipes at her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I've felt really nauseous for over a month now, but it was only extreme smells that actually made me sick... But I've been struggling to keep much of anything down since the beginning of last week... I rang the doctor but they told me not to come in. They're not too worried yet as I'm staying hydrated, but recommended those protein and vitamin shakes, which I've been able to keep down over the last few days".

She's so relieved to finally have someone to talk to... It being Anne, is just even more of a blessing.

>  
>

4th June 2020

Anne ended up staying with Eloise for almost a couple of weeks; until she was feeling a bit stronger.

In between receiving tradesmen - now working on the house and garden again - she focused her time and energy on reading and researching.

Having paused work attempting to outline a new screenplay again, she's had plenty else to focus on - from pregnancy journals and parenting books, to all the horrific news coming out of the US.

Talking about the latter at length with Harry, they take stock of their privilege; reading up on race relations and educating themselves on the Black Lives Matter movement, and equality and unconscious bias more broadly.

She was proud, if a little apprehensive, when Harry marched in LA a couple of days ago, but had to lie through her teeth when she promised to look into the London dates. She absolutely would if she could, but it's too risky - for infection or rioting.

Curled up in her favourite spot on the kitchen sofa - in leggings, slouchy socks, one of his t-shirts and his snuggly checked Bode jacket - she listens to the soothing pitter-patter of an unseasonable rain shower, whilst pouring over the photos and coverage of the LA march.

Suddenly, hearing the front door close quietly, she practically jumps out of her skin.

Leaping up, she holds her breath as she tiptoes over to quietly peer around the door into the hall. She immediately freezes, feeling only blind panic at the sight of a hooded, scruffy-looking man, tall and broad, in an all-black outfit with a bandana covering most his face.

Unable to contain her shocked gasp, she staggers backward into the kitchen.

But then he spins towards her, and, well, she'd know those eyes anywhere.

Frozen to the spot again, she can only gape as he tugs down his hood and then bandana.

"Surprise!", Harry grins broadly, giving her somewhat lazy jazz hands too. He's tired, but so happy, and so relieved to finally be home.

As her eyes well up, she brings one shaky hand to her mouth and another to her messy bun. "You're really here?", she whispers in disbelief.

"I'm really here, baby", he nods, beaming at her. Fuck, it's good to see her.

With her still rooted to the spot in surprise, he strides across the hall towards her, going to reach for her, before he catches himself.

"Ooh, hang on, let me just-". He darts into the downstairs toilet to scrub his hands with soap and hot water. "I should probably have a hot shower too, right?", he twists around to face her, still scrubbing. "I don't want to risk anything when you've been so under the weather-".

"How are you even here?", she says dumbly, inadvertently cutting him off. It's like her brain and emotions are on a lag.

He chuckles. "I chartered the first private flight out that I could", he explains with a grin as he dries his hands off. "I had to take a Covid test to book it, and another before they'd let me on the plane; and I have another to do now-".

"Oh, umm... Can you take it? Now?".

"Yeah, okay... Good idea". He can't help but frown a little at her caution and hesitancy.

But after such a long time, what's another couple of minutes? And especially when she'd already been so poorly. Her immune system must still be pretty run down.

As she steps back, he crosses to the front door again to grab a couple of his bags before heading up the grand sweeping staircase. Twisting to peer over his shoulder, he gestures for her to follow him up. "Come on, then!".

He has zero intention of letting her out of his sight ever again, truth be told, let alone so soon after first laying eyes on her again.

>

As the shower heats up, Harry digs in the drawer for scissors and sets out his shaving kit. "Don't worry!", he smirks playfully, scratching at his rugged beard, before promptly stripping off.

He continues prattling on, explaining that Ben, Mer and the girls, and Mitch and Sarah flew home with him too.

She nods, but takes only half of it in, entirely distracted... God, he's actually here; he's finally home!

Sitting shakily, she perches on the edge of the bath, irrationally worried he'll disappear if she so much as blinks.

As he ducks into the shower across from her, she can't take her eyes off him. Fuck, he looks good - and even buffer than he did after Japan.

>

Emerging, skin pink from a no-nonsense good scrubbing with anti-bacterial soap and the water as hot as he could stand, Harry wraps a towel around his waist, then gets straight to work, unboxing the Covid and antibody testing kits.

He's done a few of these, now, but still gags at the swab, high in the back of his throat.

The blood test is new, and he can't help but yelp and swear colourfully at the innocuous-seeming finger prick gadget.

Still staring unashamedly, drinking him in, a smile gradually grows across her face as her unexpected nerves finally melt into optimism.

After busying herself, finding a little plaster for his finger, they shyly, awkwardly, eagerly wait for the timer on his phone to go off.

He double-checks both sets of instructions again to confirm his results.

Both are negative.

"Phew!", he chuckles in relief.

As he distractedly bends to snap a photo, in case he needs the proof later on, she nudges his hip to be able to pull open the dressing table drawer, and stealthily pulls out one of the positive pregnancy tests she'd kept in a little ziplock bag.

Standing shoulder to shoulder - the closest they've been in months - she holds her breath as she silently places it alongside his tests.

Immediately dropping his phone on to the marble table top with a clatter, he reaches for her test to take a closer look.

"Erm, as it happens, I tested positive for something actually", she wrings her fingers as she braves a look up at him. "And, well, H, it's definitely your business-".

"Holy shit?!", he cuts her off.

She laughs at his comical double-take and shocked expression, before he joins her, letting out a peal of disbelieving, nervy laughter.

Turning abruptly to face her, he takes a step back to cast his eyes over her frame. "Oh, my God!", he claps a hand to his mouth in shock. "Can I-", he gestures to her with his other arm outstretched.

"You bloody better!", she laughs again.

He swoops her straight into his arms and right off her feet in a tight hold.

And then all feels right with the world; despite all the ongoing crazy.

"Holy shit! Oh, my God...", he stutters. Finally putting her down, he drops down to his knees in front of her, cradling and stroking and kissing and whispering. "Oh, God, baby... A baby?! When-? How long?", he babbles, looks up at her, wide-eyed, grinning, and swiping at tears; entirely overcome.

"I think twelve weeks... Maybe thirteen?", she smiles moonily down at him, combing her hands through his grown out again hair. Gosh, he has been gone a long time.

He furrows his brow for a beat, before a smirk tugs at his lips. "The cottage?".

"The cottage", she nods decisively, with a pretty blush colouring her cheeks.

"Wow... Just wow!". He drops a shaky hand to her lower abdomen. She feels a little skinny, if anything, and it's still flat, but seemingly harder to the touch lower down. That's new. And definitely makes it feel real.

From this angle, he can't help but wonder if her boobs already look a bit fuller too.

"Oh, my God, so that's why you felt so rough!", it suddenly dawns on him. "How are you now, really?", he frets, standing back up and pulling her into a loose hug, rubbing soothing circles around her hips and lower back.

"A bit queasy still, and could happily nap all day long, but I'm feeling so much better... And all the more so now, with you", she smiles, lifting a hand to stroke the nape of his neck.

"I'm back! God, I'm so sorry I wasn't here... But a global fucking pandemic is literally the only thing that could have kept me away! I cannot believe you had to go through all this alone-".

"Not your fault", she cuts him off with a shake of her head. "And you sent your mum! She was a godsend-".

"She knew?", he's surprised.

"I'm sorry!", she grimaces. "I made her promise not to say anything yet... She's been nagging me this week saying I shouldn't delay the scan much longer, but she's been so amazing... I was only just starting to accept this whole mess and that you might not get home for weeks yet-".

"Wait, what scan? You've been holding out-? For me? Is that safe?", he can't help but worry. Protective mode definitively on.

"Apparently any time up to fourteen weeks is fine", she shakes her head again to reassure him.

"Fucking hell! I can't believe I've missed that long... Three months? Fuck, El, I'm so sorry", he pouts. "Why didn't you just tell me? This is huge".

"I know", she grimaces again. "I'm so sorry, but I just couldn't do it over FaceTime... And I've been holding out for an ultrasound, so it's technically not one hundred percent confirmed yet".

"When can we do it?". He couldn't be more eager.

"With your negative test, hopefully tomorrow? I'll call them in a bit... But I'll wait another two weeks if they insist you need to quarantine. I'm not doing it without you, I can't...". Her eyes well up again.

"And everything's seemed okay...?", he checks. He doesn't have to say 'this time'. "No pain or worrying symptoms?".

"Nothing at all", she shakes her head, a grin breaking across her face as she steps back into his arms. "I've got a really, really good feeling about this".

He finally kisses her.

Their teeth clack around uncontainable smiles, and his scruffy beard tickles and scratches, but it's him; he's here.

And, safe in his arms, she finally feels at home too.

>

Still fervently kissing, and with no intention of stopping - possibly ever - Harry walks them backwards until he can sit on their bed and tug her down on to his lap.

Scooting up to prop himself against the headboard, he pulls her to lie draped on top of him, still kissing all the while.

As his arms wrap low over her back, holding her tighter, hands stroking and palming everything he can reach, she reluctantly pulls back. "Babe", she whispers against his lips, "I'm not sure if we should, until after the appointment, maybe?".

He shakes his head, adamantly. "No way, of course not!". Pulling back, he looks up at her through wet eyes. "I just want, need, to hold you... Please?".

>

They're interrupted again when her phone rings in her (his) pocket. When she can't seem to let go of him, he drops a hand to fumble for it.

Peeking one eye open and across to her screen, he snorts a laugh, finally breaking their kiss.

"Babe! Babe...", he pulls back with a final peck. "Look who it is", he grins.

It's his mum, FaceTiming.

Lifting his arm higher, he swipes, answering it nonchalantly. "Hi, mum".

"Hello, sweet child of mine!", she grins. "How are you, darling?".

"I'm-".

"Wait, hang on!", she cuts him off, "I'm sure I meant to dial Eloise?".

"Oh, charming!". Waiting for the penny to drop, he can't help but laugh as she fumbles around, swiping at her screen.

"I did! I-, oh, no way! Are you home? How-?", Anne babbles excitedly, eyes shining with happy tears.

As his eyes crinkle and a dimpled, fully moony smile breaks across his face, Harry tilts the phone down, to finally reveal an equally beaming Eloise, lying curled up on his chest.

"Oh, my loves, you're finally back together! I'm so happy for you", she gushes. "El, darling, how are you feeling now-?", she naturally starts chatting.

But she cuts herself off abruptly, eyes widening in panic as she clamps her jaw shut with a comical grimace.

"Why? What do you mean 'now'?", Harry frowns quizzically in panic, setting the phone wobbling as he cranes his neck to peer down at Eloise.

But he can't keep it up and barks a pained laugh when she pinches him in the ribs. "Don't you dare! That's cruel".

As they both giggle, Anne lets out a long sigh of relief. "So...?", she asks, drawing it out cautiously.

"So...?", Harry parrots back, raising an eyebrow at her, before asking pointedly. "So, have you been keeping something every single time you've spoken to me for the last month?", he deadpans again, gasping as Eloise shifts intentionally on his lap in warning. "Or, so, has my darling wife and love of my life just told me the most incredible news I've ever heard?". He grins, lowering the phone and zooming closer to reveal his broad palm, splayed low across her abdomen.

He tilts the phone back to reveal their beaming faces again.

"Oh, my baby!", Anne coos, tears escaping, totally overjoyed for them. "A baby!".

"I'm not entirely sure it's sunk in yet", Harry scrunches his nose, "But I'm over the moon and on cloud nine all at once... I was dying to see her but wasn't expecting anything like this!", he laughs in disbelief again.

"When did you get back? Why didn't you say anything?", his mum asks.

"Literally just like fifteen or twenty minutes ago! I didn't want to risk getting anyone's hopes up... We got the very first flight out that we could; Ben and Mer and the girls and Mitch and Sarah came too".

"Oh, God, wait! Shouldn't you be quarantining?", Anne frets.

"I've just taken my third and fourth tests within the last twenty-four hours. All negative, don't panic".

"Oh, phew! And hopefully they'll let you get into the hospital okay for her appointment... Have you managed to book it?".

When there's no answer, Harry tilts the phone again as he tries to peer down. Instead, he lifts his hand to rake his fingers through Eloise's hair. "Tomorrow hopefully... I'll call them in a few minutes", she mumbles sleepily.

He and his mum trade matching smiles at her cuteness. "You better get comfy, H! I napped like a champ when I was pregnant with you, you know?", Anne grins.

The solid thump of Harry's heart under Eloise's ear, and the vibration through his chest as he talks, has her succumbing to another nap. This time with a soft smile still pasted on her face.

"Oh, H, just look at her!", Anne coos. "Hang on, hold still... Let me screen-grab this. It's adorable". 

She naps for almost thirty minutes whilst he chats quietly with his mum - catching up on his journey home, and his experience at the march, and on all her news too - until Eloise's phone battery is about to run out.

"Oh, and H?", she throws in parting. "For the love of God, please shave... Her face is too pretty to get all pink with beard burn or 'stache rash!", she sasses.

>  
>

5th June 2020

Naturally, Eloise has been worried about another ectopic pregnancy or any heightened risks from her previous one. She's read up on it, and pragmatically knows the risk has likely passed, but her nervousness only grows ahead of her ultrasound appointment. And what if something else might be wrong? Something she isn't even aware of to have been able to research or worry about yet?

Still totally overwhelmed and overjoyed, Harry's nervous too, but still deploys every trick in his arsenal to try to keep her calm and lend some reassurance.

He insists on the best, and, wanting to steer clear of the NHS right now - to avoid adding to their burden, or indeed take any unnecessary risks with exposure at a big hospital - they opt for an exclusive private maternity hospital, The Portland in Marylebone.

It comes as a huge relief when they're able to squeeze her in with a final appointment the very next day; their last slot on Friday afternoon.

After rigorous Covid screenings and safety protocols, they finally make it inside via the back entrance. Both of them, thank God.

Both giddy with nervous anticipation, waiting to be called for their appointment, she gets quieter and he gets fidgety.

>

After introductions with the consultant, Dr. Jenkins, and some blood tests and a myriad of initial questions, they're led to another room and introduced to the sonographer.

They don't warn you about the gel being cold for nothing.

Eloise yelps in surprise, pulling nervy, bubbling chuckles from both of them, as her abs tense at the cool gel and her subsiding laughter.

Hands clasped tightly, they chatter nervously amongst themselves as the stony sonographer focuses intently on the screen - angled away from them - moving the wand, adjusting various dials, and tapping away at a few keys.

They both flinch in surprise when she suddenly stands up, explaining quietly that she wants to ask the consultant for a second opinion, before dashing out the room.

Terrified, they immediately both start panicking. Harry tries to stay strong, but the worry and fear flashing in his eyes are enough to tip Eloise over the edge, and she starts falling apart a bit.

As soon as Dr. Jenkins enters the room with the sonographer in tow, Eloise blurts out. "Is it something to do with my ectopic pregnancy? Oh, God, is-?".

"Just give me a minute... No need to worry just yet", she placates Eloise, patting her denim-clad thigh soothingly.

Both intently trying to gauge something from the consultant's expression, after what feels like an excruciating few seconds of silence, she quickly puts them both at ease in her lovely, lilting, soft Welsh accent. "No, no, that risk has definitely passed. And implantation looks good...".

They both let out a sigh of relief and Harry squeezes Eloise's hand even tighter in reassurance and relief.

Then Dr. Jenkins turns the monitor towards them, and gives them a moment to try to work out what they're looking at on the fuzzy, shifting black and white imager across the screen.

Despite their intense expressions, the synchronised confused tilt of their heads clues her in that they're both struggling. She's got a soft spot for these two already; fairly young, and full of eager energy, but blatantly so in love. Taking a gentle approach, she suppresses a grin to gently ask, "Is there a history of twins in either of your families?".

Entirely distracted, Eloise answers flatly, "Well, I am one". Still squinting intently at the monitor, she's unable to make anything out clearly.

At Harry's sharp intake of breath and his punishing squeeze of her hand, it hits Eloise after a beat, and she whips her head towards the kindly Dr. Jenkins. "Wait, what? No! No way? It's hereditary in male twins, not females, right?", she protests frantically. "How is this possible? I've spent the last decade gloating to Ollie about twin genetics", she cuts her wide eyes to Harry. He looks almost as shellshocked as she feels.

The awkward sonographer pipes up quietly from behind Dr. Jenkins and gestures to Harry. "This will sound totally weird, but... My daughter was totally in love with you, and had your posters on her bedroom wall when she was growing up... You, umm, you have four nipples, right?". They all laugh awkwardly at her completely unexpected question.

"Well, that could possibly explain it!", Dr. Jenkins cuts in, nodding, "Or, of course, if you had intercourse multiple times in a short period of time...".

"Wait, what?", Eloise asks, shaking her head, blushing and feeling flummoxed and more than a little overwhelmed.

Dr. Jenkins kindly clues them in. "Vanishing Twin Syndrome is when a second foetus gets absorbed inside of the normally developing twin early in pregnancy. Usually, only tiny clues are left behind, like extra nipples... It's legit, and it affects up to twenty percent of identical twin pregnancies".

"That's awful! Like some alien shit...", Eloise turns to look at Harry in horror, before cricking her neck in her haste to look back at the consultant. "Oh, God, when can-?", she panics.

"Don't worry", she jumps in soothingly whilst giving the sonographer a pointed look. "That's only for identical twins; with the same egg, and the same placenta. The risk of that is absolutely minimal here, I can assure you". She pulls the monitor closer to Eloise and points across the screen with her pen. "Everything looks perfectly healthy to me... Fraternal, not identical. You have two, see? Separate placentas. And you're past the twelve-week mark...".

Once they know what they're looking at, neither Eloise nor Harry can tear their gaze from the monitor; eyes darting back and forth from one foetus to the other.

Dr. Jenkins calculates Eloise is actually just entering her fourteenth week, so just at the start of her second trimester, and goes on to start talking about follow-up appointments and how often she'll want to see her. It's a lot, and a lot to try to take in.

She explains that her pregnancy will be considered high-risk, due both to twins and her previous ectopic pregnancy. They'll also need to monitor her anaemia closely too.

But, still processing everything , it's all a bit of a blur to Eloise and Harry, truth be told. She reassures them she'll write everything up in her notes, and that they shouldn't hesitate to get in touch with any questions.

As she helps wipe the gel from Eloise's abdomen, Dr. Jenkins splays her hand, eyeing her short torso. "There won't be a huge amount of room in there... That's what, just six inches from the lowest rib to the pubic bone? You're both fairly tall too...". She runs her knuckle up the subtle indentation running up Eloise's abs. "And this muscle tone likely explains why you haven't popped already... It will keep holding everything up and in for a while yet; but then you might find that you suddenly look quite pregnant... However, twins take a toll on the body, so, in the meantime, you have to remember to act pregnant even if you don't look or feel it yet, okay?".

She further eyes them up as Harry helps Eloise off the examination table and pulls her straight into a tight hug. They're both smiling, if a little dazed, and rendered practically speechless.

Dr. Jenkin's checks her chart again and hums. "5'9". Tall women are statistically more likely to have twins you know?".

"Well, I do now!", Eloise gulps before a bubbling peal of laughter escapes, shaking her head in disbelief.

>

After gathering a million leaflets, and picking up vitamins and supplements, and booking follow-up appointments, Eloise and Harry leave the hospital quietly. Despite holding hands tightly, they're both lost in their own thoughts.

It's when they settle into the car in the underground garage and sit quietly for a second, that she braves a look at him.

Upon seeing his sparkling eyes, scrunchy nose, and his left dimple popping as the smile tugging at his lips splits to mega-watt proportions across his face, she barks a slightly hysterical laugh of disbelief.

He immediately joins in too. "Holy shit, baby-!"

"Babies?!".

He promptly throws himself over the centre console in his haste to kiss her senseless.

A/N 2: Next update due tomorrow! Hold on to your seats...! Xx

A/N 3: I've done a lot of research, but haven't experienced any of this for myself... So if you're in the know and spot any glaring errors, please feel free to send me a message to enlighten me! I also tried to reflect Covid complications accurately, but will almost certainly have taken a few liberties for either a little storytelling license or just woeful ignorance... I have nothing but the utmost respect for the incredible work of all medical professionals - especially this year - and for any new mums that have had it tougher than ever... But again, if there's anything anyone takes umbrage to, please just send me a message! Thanks Xx


	2. Part B

A/N: Again, there are a couple of small shifts to the timeline... Sorry I didn't manage to finish this yesterday, but I ended up adding a whole extra section this morning, so hopefully you'll find it worth the wait?! It's a long one, so hope you're sitting comfortably..! Xx

10th June 2020

It took Eloise and Harry a while to get their heads around the incredible, if slightly terrifying, news from the ultrasound.

Giving themselves time for it to sink in, they agreed to keep it quiet for a little while longer; deciding to hold out on telling their families and closest friends until her birthday.

If he'd been off on tour, and her top-secret project would be going ahead as planned, the timing would have been terrible, but, as it happens, with a global pandemic shutting down the entertainment industries, they both have oodles of it on their hands for once.

In their little bubble of happiness - just them and their huge secret - and with nowhere else they need to be, they indulge in a fair bit of time in bed, delighting in just being back together.

In the heat of the moment, after some frantic Googling for reassurance, they'd finally reconnected intimately too. And then some... All in the name of research, of course; checking out recommended positions, and making the most of some trusty favourites too, before she's unable to lie on her back.

Naturally, it's all a little softer, slower and gentler - for the most part - but, God, it feels good.

>

As he lies sprawled across their bed - still panting and unashamedly naked, with the sheets strewn half on the floor - a smug grin stretches across his face as he lolls his head on his pillow, avidly following her progress around the bed and towards the ensuite.

Spinning suddenly back to face him, she's caught in a sunbeam from the parted gauzy curtain. It silhouettes her naked body perfectly.

Entirely distracted from what she's saying - something about lockdown measures again - his legs tangle in the sheets in his haste.

But after skidding on to his knees in front of her, he plants his hands on her hips to shift her back and forth, before spinning her around to the full-length mirror behind them.

Angling her side-on, with him still on his knees beside her, he grins up at her puzzled frown before delicately traces his index finger down the centre line of her abdomen, nodding his head towards the mirror to encourage her to look at her silhouette.

As her brow unfurrows, quizzically cocked head straightens up, and her mouth drops open, his splits into a beaming smile as he sees her moment of realisation. As a matching smile stretches across her face too, she lifts a hand to trace it for herself, whispering, "Whoa".

As if her body realised there was no longer a need for secrecy, just a few days after their first appointment, her bump has popped - absolutely tiny as convex lines go, but definitely there.

He's immediately enraptured, and, God, makes it feeling all the more real. Jumping up, he pulls her into his arms for a kiss and tight hug, before scooping her up and depositing her back in bed. Promptly sliding in beside her, he scoots down and lies on his side alongside her stomach. His long fingers stroke, soothe, and dance playfully over her smooth skin all the while, as he drops reverent kisses and whispers in awe.

Combing a hand through his hair, she looks down at him, melting with affection and the depth of her love for him. He really is going to be the most incredible father.

Lolling his head back up, he arches into her palm. "Can we do weekly photos?", he asks excitedly.

"Do you want to do weekly photos?", she smiles indulgently.

He can only nod, wide-eyed, pinching his lips between his teeth to contain his grin.

"Then I'll happily hand over all creative control to you, and be your willing model... But maybe just not totally naked, or saved to iCloud... You know, just in case!".

>   
>

18th June 2020

A week later, the UK lockdown restrictions were eased a little more, with socially-distanced outdoor gatherings permissible once again.

Just in time for her and Ollie's twenty-seventh birthday, Eloise and Harry invited their immediate families and a few of their closest friends over for a casual barbeque party.

Ostensibly just to be as responsible as possible, and of course to protect little Grace, they'd asked that everyone coming take a Covid test.

They all jump at invitation, eager for a chance to see each other for the first time in months, make the most of their relative new-found freedom, and get to enjoy the new garden - whilst it still looks at its best, before the grass inevitably succumbs to the summer sun.

Anne, Gemma and Michal; Crispin and Elin; Ben, Mer and the girls; Lucas and Ollie, both stir crazy with all professional rugby games cancelled; Niall and Malin; and Sarah and Mitch.

Harry's Dad couldn't make it, unfortunately; but to manage to have almost all their favourites? Not bad at all, considering.

It feels amazing to finally be properly reunited with so many friendly faces.

Emotionally weeping tears of joy as she greets each of them - even from a distance - it hits Eloise just quite how lonely and isolated she'd been feeling.

It's amazing quite how much has changed in just a couple of weeks.

>

A warm and sunny Thursday afternoon, they're able to enjoy the perks of most of them being free agents.

Crispin runs his own finance company, so pointedly told his team not to bother him and switched his phone to silent. Malin has a few days off, and Michal just intermittently sidles off to take a couple of work calls and answer a few emails. None of the rest of them work anything close to a regular nine-to-five.

Most haven't seen the house yet, and Harry quickly succumbs to their pleas and ushers a few small groups around on whistle-stop tours. He's mightily proud of it, and deservedly so.

Having seen it already, Anne holds back to lend Eloise a hand in the kitchen. She could almost weep herself, just watching her potter around one-handed, still not quite ready to hand baby Grace over just yet.

Double-checking they're alone, Anne steps closer and keeps her voice low and soft. "You're such a natural... And you're looking so much better, darling, positively glowing! Now, tell me, I'm dying to hear more about the scan...", she begs, eager eyes sparkling with excitement.

Eloise feels bad, but manages to fob her off with a few vague, non-committal responses, promising her they'll tell everyone this afternoon.

>

Soon enough, they're all outside in the garden and adhering to the 'at least one metre' rule. Well, ish... But it's really hard! And when they know they've all tested negative, it feels a bit weird to be too stringent about it.

Upon setting eyes on the outdoor pool, it takes Lucas about ten seconds to strip off his t-shirt and leap straight in. Evidently already in his swimming trunks, had he given himself just a few seconds more, he might have remembered the phone in his pocket. Oops.

Many of the others are understandably keen to follow suit, albeit less recklessly.

After some heckling, Eloise succumbs, and casts a surreptitious look at Harry as she turns to head inside to pop a bikini under her loose sundress and grab some trunks for him. She hadn't entirely thought this through.

>

Then, with the others all shouting from the pool for her to hurry up and join them, she checks in with the few still sitting on the patio as she whips her dress off.

"Are you all okay, here? Can I get you anything else? Is this enough shade for Grace-?".

She stops abruptly, flinching away as Elin pokes a bony finger at her tummy. "Lockdown is no excuse to slack off, Eloise", she tuts.

Only a few others heard it - Anne, Gemma, Mer, with Grace asleep in her arms, and Mitch too.

Eloise is actually speechless, Anne and Gemma both audibly gasp, and Mitch's jaw actually drops. Horrified, but a little more used to Elin's ways, Mer recovers fastest. "I'm sorry, what did you just say-?".

But Harry cuts her off, "No-, no way! You did not just-". Returning back outside in his trunks, he'd evidently just caught it too.

Spinning to face him, wide-eyed, Eloise catches his face like thunder and piercing eyes, directed over her shoulder at her mum. He reflexively steps around and then pointedly in front of her, blocking Elin and anyone else's view of her bikini-clad body.

He's always tried to urge Eloise to be more lenient with her mum, but this is one of the first times he's heard one of her snipes first hand, and, well, he sees red.

Her comment was entirely out of line, and would be in any situation, but it's even more ridiculous given that Eloise still looks incredibly slim. Sure, her stomach is a tiny bit less flat than usual, but only if you know to really look for it.

It would usually be her going off like a rocket at a comment like that, but, this time, Eloise knows she needs to quickly defuse an instantly simmering Harry.

Stepping to pivot neatly around him again, with her back to the others, she lifts her palms to his chest, encouraging him back towards to the patio doors. She speaks quietly, but pointedly. "H-, babe! She doesn't know", she shakes her head emphatically.

He keeps his eyes trained over her shoulder. "That's not the point! That's never fucking okay", he hisses, absolutely livid.

"I know, I know! She just-, I don't know, doesn't know any better?", she placates with a shrug, still pushing him back and shifting into his eye line. "Just ignore it. Don't let it ruin today", she pleads.

>

When they head back outside a few minutes later, it's a little frosty by the fire pit. Gemma and Mitch must have hightailed it to the pool, leaving a non-plussed Anne trying to chat with a visibly tense Mer, both pointedly not engaging with Elin.

"Eloise, I shouldn't-", her mum starts.

"Yeah, you really shouldn't", Eloise pointedly cuts her off. Leaving the tools alongside the barbeque for Harry, she reaches up to drop a kiss to his lips. Whispering, "Just leave it at that, okay? Please", she then spins on her heel and struts off towards the pool.

Passing her Dad on the way, she pointedly ignores his "What did she-?", and keeps walking. "Doesn't matter", she mutters, shaking her head; intent on shaking him off too and leaving it at that, just as she'd asked of Harry.

But then, she thinks twice. "No, actually...", she spins back to face him and steps close. "It does matter! I might not still look like the scrawny ballerina she so obviously wishes I still was, but I am the smallest girl here. And regardless of how her stupid comments always make me feel like shit, how could she have just said that in front of the others? Mer had a baby just six months ago! Why can't she ever just think before she opens her mouth?".

"I'm sorry, darling", he sighs exasperatedly, shaking his head. "I'll speak to her-".

"You shouldn't always have to...". Mirroring the shake of his head, and with a dejected sigh of her own, Eloise finally heads for the pool.

But Harry saw that interaction too, and drops what he's doing to follow her. Clocking his concern, Crispin promptly spins to follow him, keen to figure out what's up.

By the time Harry makes it to the noisy pool deck, and has scooped up a running, giggling Ruby and swooped her up on to Crispin's shoulders, Harry then looks around for Eloise, and can't help but swear under his breath.

Ollie tugs at one of her arms as Lucas holds her around the shoulders, pinned against his side, both ignoring her weak protests at their rough-housing. It's par for the course for the siblings, so no one else bats an eyelid.

Taking another step, he jumps neatly into the pool to intervene. With a shove to Lucas' chest and a swat at Ollie's arm, he hooks his arm low around Eloise's back and wades her shallower, before lifting her up to sit on the side.

"Hey, we were just playing! What's got you all pissy today?", Lucas sasses.

As some of the others join in heckling and booing at his expense, Harry heaves himself out the pool and spins around, looking back down at him and Ollie, as he offers a hand to Eloise to help her up. "Because she was saying 'no' and you weren't listening! And what happened to social distancing anyway?". His tone isn't exactly jovial, so all eyes around the pool are on him.

Given the vibes, and Harry being decidedly on edge, Crispin is quick to step in, still with Ruby on his shoulders. "Just cool it, you two", he calls down to Lucas and Ollie in the pool, before addressing Harry and Eloise. "Now, what can we do to be more helpful? The food won't be long, right? Shall I grab some towels so everyone can start drying off?".

Grateful for the intervention, Eloise leads a surly Harry back up and into the house.

>

Convinced something's up, Crispin resolves to keep an eye out. He really hopes they're not struggling, after being apart for so long.

Soon returning to the patio himself, he notices Anne whispering to Harry at the barbeque, whilst Eloise ferries various salads and sides out to the big table under the trellis, which Elin is setting. He can't help but wince at their stony silence. Still pinned on the sofa by Grace, he catches Mer's watchful eye too, and they trade suspicious, curious looks.

When Eloise emerges back out from the kitchen a final time, she's surprised that the smell of barbequing meat wafting in the air still proves just as irresistible. She has a nose like a bloodhound these days, so thought it might prove a bit overwhelming. But maybe she's just really that hungry.

Passing the kitchen timer to Harry as he closes the lid a final time, she's surprised to find everyone else gathered on the sofas around the fire pit, ready and waiting, if a little soggy from the pool.

"There she is! There's just time for presents and a toast, my darling", Crispin ushers her over.

As always, he insists that Ollie and Eloise each alternate opening gifts, one at a time. They both roll their eyes exasperatedly, but secretly love the long-standing tradition.

They both have everything they could ever need, so, as always, they're mostly just sweet little token gifts or silly, jokey presents. But then there's just one present left on the table, and it's Eloise's turn.

Harry grins sheepishly. "After me sweating bullets all morning, it finally arrived at lunchtime, so sorry for the hasty wrapping job!".

Once she's unwrapped the silver paper, she gasps and cranes her head up, eyes narrowing accusingly. When will he ever listen?

She can spot Cartier red from a mile off by now.

"Ooh, twins get matching presents, right?", Ollie jokes, peering over her shoulder. "Where are you hiding mine?!".

"Sorry!", Harry laughs. "But this one's for 'Styles' only!".

"Well, yippee for me then!", Gemma pretends to elbow Ollie out the way, rubbing her hands with glee.

"Oh, leave off!", Harry rolls his eyes and focuses back on Eloise as she does battle with the fiddly little latch on the jewellery box.

Leaning down from the arm of her chair he's perched on, he lends a hand, revealing the necklace with a flourish and making her gasp again.

It matches the Cartier trinity ring he'd bought her for their second Christmas together - and currently sitting on her right index finger. Three interwoven small bands, in gold, platinum and rose gold, attached to a gold chain via a smaller diamond-studded band. The styling is elegantly simple and so her, but it's even more meaningful now.

Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he whispers lowly in her ear as she smiles moonily at it, shining and sparkling in the sun. "My whole world, right in my arms".

As the others clamour to look at the necklace, she twists in his arms and kneels on the sofa to pull him into a tight hug. Overcome and feeling emotional, she can't withhold a little sob.

They only break apart as Mer nudges Eloise's shoulder, so she can put it on for her.

Harry leans back, grinning as he whispers. "Perfect! My everything, right there by your heart".

"I love it, thank you! God, I love you, so much". She stretches up again for a sweet kiss.

"So you really didn't get me one? I'm wounded, man", Ollie jests again, breaking them up.

"Hush you!", Crispin nudges him, stepping to sling an arm around his and Eloise's shoulders, jostling them affectionately. "Now, how about a toast?".

>

As Eloise hands out champagne flutes and Harry follows after her to top them up, she realises there's something else she didn't quite think through.

"You'll need one more glass, Lol", Ben notices. "Where are they? I'll grab it".

"Oh, don't worry, I can just share this one with H", she tries to fob him off.

"Nonsense! It's your bloody birthday and neither of you are driving".

>

All standing in a loose circle, not quite socially distanced, Harry has an arm around Eloise again.

Proud to see her defiantly still in just her bikini, he can't seem to control his dancing fingers, but does make an effort to keep them down at her hip.

They hadn't decided how or when they'd announce their news, but agreed they'd know when an opportune moment arose.

Crispin tips his glass to her, and then to Ollie, standing on her other side.

"Happy birthday, you two! I'm so glad we've all managed to get together. Thanks again to you too, for making it happen", he gestures to her and Harry before twisting away. "And I should say sköl to Elin, too... Gosh, just think, almost exactly twenty-seven years ago, you were still grunting and cursing like a sailor at the tail-end of possibly the longest and hardest labour ever!".

There are three immediate howls of protest.

"Crispin!", Elin scolds him.

"Urgh, Dad, really?", Ollie grimaces.

"What?! God, stop, please", Eloise swallows thickly.

Harry just catches her horrified grimace out the corner of his eye, and is fairly certain she actually blanched a little too.

Reining in his distinctive laugh at their predictable protests, Crispin cuts back in over the chatter. "I was just trying to say that it was all definitely worth it in the end!". Raising his glass in a toast, "To Ollie and Lolly... Happy birthday!", he keeps his eye on her.

Grinning distractedly, and saying "Thank you" to everyone, her fingers toy nervously with the trinity pendant on her new necklace, but she doesn't drink.

He's not the only one to notice.

But before he or Mer can acknowledge it, Gemma gets in there first, blurting out, "Oh, my God, are you pregnant too?".

"...Too?!", Harry whips his head around.

There's a reason she noticed that Eloise didn't drink either.

After a few gasps, there's a hushed silence for a beat before they both squeal, "No way!".

Looking between Harry and Eloise, Gemma nods with a huge, dimpled grin. "Seven weeks!".

"Oh, wow!", Eloise beams back at her.

"And you?", Gemma prompts, stepping forward to reach for a hug.

"Umm, sixteen", she squirms. Casting her eyes around the evidently shocked circle, Eloise clocks thirteen pairs of wide eyes drop in unison, none too surreptitiously, towards her bared midriff.

"What?!", Gemma can only laugh in disbelief as she wraps her arms around her.

"I had to wait for him to get home!", she gestures to Harry as she steps back. "I couldn't tell anyone until he was back... And, umm, we've been getting our heads around it", she beams up at him as he slings his arm back around her, smiling moonily.

"This is so wonderful!", a teary Crispin cheers. "But getting your heads around what? You've wanted this. You'll be amazing at this!", he asks gently.

Casting her eyes back up to Harry, Eloise grins before smirking playfully at her dad. "Oh, don't tell me you just took twins in your stride?", she sasses jokily.

"WHAT?!", Anne shrieks, spilling her drink in surprise.

After their neat circle melts into a blur of definitely not socially distanced hugs and kisses and congratulations and surprised laughter, Ben hollers, "Two birthdays and three babies?! We're going to need more champagne!", before promptly jogging back inside. They're due to head back to LA soon, so they need to make the most of the opportunity.

>

When they've finally both done the rounds, receiving effusive congratulations - even from Elin, doubly apologetic - Harry finds Eloise again and delights in proudly stroking his hand over her tiny bump. He's been itching to all afternoon.

Clocking them and their moony expressions, Niall cocks his head and sweeps his arm at Harry, shooting him a smirk. "Oh, so all this has been 'Daddy Harry' then?! Christ, good luck to you, El!", he throws his head back laughing, setting off the others.

He's unapologetically protective, and absolutely proud as punch, but Harry can't help but blush a little at being called out on it.

Although that could be down to what Eloise whispers in his ear after dropping a kiss to his cheek. Protective, Daddy Harry is hot as fuck.

>  
>

8th July 2020

Now almost approaching the mid-way mark, in the last couple of weeks, Eloise's bump has really popped.

And Harry just cannot seem to stop touching her.

Neat, but now undeniable, it's getting harder to hide as the weather hots up.

When she does venture out, she relies on floaty tops, or forgiving loose dresses. And, failing that, lots of black or a well-placed tote bag.

However, a lucky paparazzo snapped them walking hand-in-hand, sipping green juices, ambling around Hampstead's food market on Saturday morning.

She'd been confident her loose smock sundress obscured it entirely, but Harry's hand, slung around her hip and caressing the side of her abdomen, had her ending up on an 'Is she?/Isn't she?' bump watchlist. Oops.

With events cancelled and most celebrities essentially having gone to ground, the press and media outlets are getting increasingly desperate for content. The story's pretty flimsy, but it got the fans suitably frenzied.

The rumour mill immediately went into overdrive. About her not having been seen in public since her Killing Eve promo in April; and how that was all via Zoom and shot from above the waist... Is she pregnant? Could she have already had a baby? Is that why they got married so quickly? It's rabid.

So, having spotted paparazzi then hanging out at the end of their road again, Harry and Eloise decided to go to ground themselves too.

>

They spent the rest of the weekend and the next few days largely in the garden, making the most of the glorious English summer sunshine. It's unfairly much maligned; sure, it can be a little temperamental, but when the sun has its hat on and comes out to play, there's just nowhere else quite like it.

Without the need to worry about prying eyes, and with far fewer visitors than normal, Harry loves that she parades around in bikinis or just little co-ordinating yoga bra and shorts sets, proudly showing off her growing bump.

Their indoor and outdoor pools and fully fitted gym keep them from going too stir crazy. And he shamelessly hangs around for her private prenatal yoga classes with Maya via Zoom. Sometimes he joins in, but other times he just sits back, watching unabashedly - ostensibly to ensure she's not pushing herself too hard, but mostly just enjoying the view.

He's unashamedly obsessed with her and her bump.

>

It's no coincidence that they spend a fair amount of time in bed too.

Her sex drive is definitely back up - which is lucky, as Harry isn't sure he's ever found her sexier.

It's not some weird kink, he doesn't think, but the knowledge of what their bodies have accomplished together, and how it cements their future with a whole extra layer of permanence... Beyond just the physical aspect of it all, it's the meaning and symbolism of it that's really getting to him.

He has to be mindful to keep her off her back, and to keep his weight off her, and to remember not to go too deep, to avoid nudging her cervix. The latter is proving most challenging of all. She's somehow never felt so warm and welcoming and deliciously full, and in the heat of the moment, he has to actively fight the urge to sink fully into her.

They get creative; with her either on top, or him taking her from behind, standing, kneeling, or seated, or else on their sides, with him spooning her from in front or behind.

She's sensitive - especially her boobs and nipples - and needs gentle foreplay, but once she's worked up and raring to go, she's really up for it, and proving borderline insatiable.

With surging hormones, and increased blood flow, and more sensitised nerve endings, she's certainly not complaining.

And neither is he; resolutely not. Fully expecting her sex drive to wane again, he resolves to make the most of it, for both of them, for as long as she's into it.

>

"H!", Eloise sing-songs up the stairs.

He just hears her from where he's doing battle in the nursery, assembling a flatpack changing table.

"Babe!", she calls louder.

"Not again, surely?", he whispers to himself in disbelief. She's had him twice this morning already and it's only just gone 10am.

"Harry!", she shouts out, making him drop his tools in a panic.

Thundering downstairs, he calls out frantically. "What? God, what is it? What's wrong?".

Finding her in the kitchen, he skids to a halt, half crashing into the marble island. She's sitting on the floor, re-arranging drawers of utensils and pots and pans. Don't ask.

Smiling sweetly to allay his panic, she shushes him and tugs at his hand to pull him down alongside her.

"El, what-?", he frowns.

Wordlessly, she presses his fingers flat, across the top of her neat bump. Grinning up at him, she whispers, "Can you feel that?". Pressing again, she nudges either side of her belly to encourage the babies to move again.

Seeing the hopeful smile across her face, he can hardly bear to let her down. "No, I don't think so", he says softly, shaking his head. "Not yet...".

"Oh, really?", she pouts. "How about now?", she presses again, harder this time. "Ooh, there, right there?".

"Baby, no, I'm sorry... But what does it feel like?", he sits down with his back against the island and pulls her on to his lap. "Describe it for me? I can't wait to feel them...".

>  
>

8th July 2020

Just a few days later, Harry actually has a now-rare day of work scheduled - an incredibly exciting and top-secret project, to boot.

Still in awe at the flutters of movement and feeling really good for the first time in forever, Eloise point blank refused to miss it, however discrete they've been trying to be.

Meanwhile, poor Gemma has started feeling really peaky in the last couple of days, and is somewhat regretting having agreed to it. She certainly didn't enjoy their 7am departure to arrive in East Sussex for 9am.

Unable to hide her bump now, Eloise waits in the car, whilst Emma, Harry's assistant, has the Vogue journalist, Hamish, and the photographer, Tyler, sign NDAs.

Meanwhile, Harry Lambert can barely contain his excitement and practically drags her from the car as soon as Harry gives him the nod. It's the first time he's seen them since hearing the news, and he'd insisted he wouldn't believe it until he saw her in person.

>

The shoot is fun and goes really well, with the photos looking incredible. And, luckily, Gemma feels well enough to get in front of the camera for a bit too, as planned.

Vogue had initially wanted Harry and Eloise to appear on the cover together, but they'd both been hesitant about courting that scale of attention into their relationship.

Ultimately, Eloise insisted that the focus should be on him and his music after such an incredible nine months. And with her competitive streak and sky-high pride for him, she's also keen that he gets the kudos for being the first solo male to score a US Vogue cover. She can only hope her agents never find out that she turned it down.

Sitting and chatting with Hamish as they watch the photoshoot unfold, Eloise takes every opportunity to big up Harry.

He asks about her due date and floats the suggestion of holding back the article to the December issue, so they can add a reference to the birth as an addendum in the online article. Harry the husband, and family man, would certainly add even more interesting angles to the enigmatic portrait already taking shape in his mind. The cover and article are going to be momentous, he has no doubt.

>  
>

15th August 2020

At Eloise's twenty-week scan, they decided not to find out the babies' sexes. Instead, they're keen to experience the ultimate surprise on the day of their birth.

But with Harry then having to drive to Italy for a couple of weeks - for a Gucci project that had already been postponed twice, and to film the Golden music video, back in Maiori, where they married - Eloise was left to face the brunt of complaints from their nearest and dearest, all evidently more desperate than them to find out what they're expecting.

>

Harry was away for One Direction's tenth anniversary on the 23rd of July too.

He'd already been feeling nostalgic about it all, and with Liam having been drumming up the fans' hopes - hinting about how good their impromptu sing-a-longs felt at their wedding, and how fun it was to all hang out together again - it was impossible not to stumble across countless posts and mentions and articles and videos. Their incredible success meant there was an awful lot to celebrate, and he's so, so proud of it all.

Like the rest of the boys, he's entirely confident that they absolutely will get back together, in some way, shape or form, at some point down the line. It would be simply mad not to. But with all the uncertainty this year, and with their final existing contract soon set to expire, they're just not in a position to be able to say anything concrete or commit to anything just yet. None of them is willing to break another promise to their incredibly loyal fans, but they'll make it up to them... One day.

However, wanting to give them at least something, he'd spent ages crafting a heartfelt Instagram post. He and the boys had been messaging back and forth too, delighting in reminiscing about wild and hazy memories, indulging in the opportunity to live in the past a bit. He forwarded a fair bit of it to Eloise too, but she's positive there would have been plenty of juicy stuff she'd never catch even a whiff of. And fair enough... That's a whole lotta history, after all.

>

After a successful trip, Harry finally returned from Italy last week, well in time for her twenty-four-week scan a few days ago.

Despite FaceTiming multiple times a day for the two weeks he was away, upon returning home and finally getting his eyes and hands back on her, he can't believe how much she's popped - unmistakably very pregnant now.

But, with it, Harry's sad to notice her confidence in her ever-changing body waning.

It's disconcerting, feeling at odds in your own skin. But she really does... Her body now feels practically unrecognisable as her own, and it seems to change more every single day.

She can only liken it, bizarrely, to feeling like going through puberty again; rapid, confusing physical changes against a backdrop of surging hormones and chaotically swirling emotions - but at a phenomenally sped up rate.

Her big bump, now DD-cup boobs, widening hips, and achy joints are all new.

The flutters and kicks from within, twanging ligaments, random cramps, killer heartburn, and weird gurgles and sloshy sensations all only add to the fun.

But it's the two unrelenting modifications that have been the toughest to adjust to.

As her bump grows bigger, her lung capacity is getting increasingly reduced. She's now noticeably puffed after climbing the stairs, and has to gasp for breath after laughing.

And she's, oh, so over the summer heat by now. She's so warm; all the damn time. Regardless of what she wears or how close she sits to her beloved oscillating fan, she can't seem to ever quite cool down. Akin to a furnace, lit from within, it's just the increased blood volume, apparently. But, at this point, she can barely recall life as the girl who used to wind Harry up, twining her ever-cold feet around his calves in bed, trying leech a little warmth, or burrow her icy fingers under his clothes to thaw out against his warm torso.

Physiologically, she's doing well - gaining the expected amount of weight, keeping mobile with gentle exercise, eating healthily, and managing her iron levels. But she doesn't feel well; and, never having felt anything but fit and healthy before, that's disconcerting.

Her biggest struggle of all, is that all these physical symptoms and sensations don't come with a night-mode switch. They can strike any time, but, God, they're always so much more evident at night.

Her old, shitty friend insomnia is back with a vengeance... And this time she's a real bitch.

And, evidently, when tired and feeling out of sorts, Eloise can be too.

But don't feel too bad for Harry. He's sleeping peacefully every night - as Eloise can attest.

Champion napper that she is, she's still able to snatch some sleep during the day, but she's really, really struggling at night.

>

Baulking at Eloise's flippant suggestion that maybe their eye-wateringly expensive new mattress might be to blame, Harry decides it's time for an intervention.

With her emotions only exacerbated by her fatigue and long sleepless nights, they head up to stay with Anne in Holmes Chapel for a change of scenery. She had always commented on how comfy his bed is up there, too, so it's worth a shot.

Now feeling huge and keener than ever to avoid being seen, they keep things low-key. Well, for the most part.

>

"I look like a bloody toffee apple!", he hears her wail from the depths of the family bathroom, where she's been trying on outfits for his cousin's scaled-down wedding. With increasing desperation, apparently.

Popping her head out of her bedroom, Anne grimaces and mouths "Good luck" to Harry as he passes, dutifully blowing out a deep breath before rounding the corner to venture bravely into the bathroom.

"I obviously disagree, babe... But if you happen to be feeling like a toffee apple, then you're definitely the tastiest one I've ever encountered".

Already peeling the dress over her head, she scoffs at his cute flattery before flinging it on to the 'no' pile in disgust.

Turning from the mirror in just plain, comfy underwear, she throws her hands up in dismay. "I am, look!", she turns sideways as he steps up behind her.

The edge of her bump now drops almost straight down from her fuller boobs, and she feels uncertain as to where the sides of her pregnant belly seem to meet her back and hips and bum. She feels wide and round, like she's got a baby wrapped above each hip.

She's lucid enough to know she doesn't necessarily look like that, but it's how she feels. And that discrepancy only adds fuel to the fire.

"I feel like a fucking Oompah Loompah, Harry!", she wails, dramatically.

Throwing his head back, he has no chance of holding back his bark of laughter at her comedic delivery.

Laughing dejectedly with him and the ridiculousness of it all, she soon gets out of breath. "Ooh, please, don't make me laugh", she whines pitifully.

"You are beautiful, any which way". Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he nudges gently at her hips to turn her to face the mirror front on, peppering kisses to her head all the while.

Lifting his hands to caress her bump soothingly, he coos in her ear whilst willing her to open her stubbornly closed eyes. "Look how beautiful... You're growing two babies, and it's August! Cut yourself some slack... This incredible body is doing amazing things. Please be kind to it".

With a sigh, she peeks one eye open, then the other. He's fairly sure she focuses more on his reflection than hers, but he'll take it as progress.

"Everyone will think you're the most beautiful woman there, whatever you wear, El".

She freezes rigidly in his arms before throwing her head back against his shoulder. "Oh, God, gawking strangers too! I can't-, I'm not-... Please don't make me go", she whimpers, pouting as her eyes pool with unshed tears.

He shakes his head, pointedly. "I'd never want to make you do anything... It's your choice entirely".

With a quiet "Okay", she grabs the last towel off the rail, only to burst into tears as soon as she realises it's too small to wrap around herself. Holding it to her front instead, she stalks out the doorway and sulks back to his bedroom.

He can only wince, and pauses to take a deep, rallying breath before scooping up her discarded clothes and heading back to his room to try to talk her down. "El, babe? I think that's just a little hand towel... Please, don't cry".

>

Just under an hour later, they're ready to go.

Eloise calls down from upstairs. "I just need two minutes".

Down in the hall, Harry, Anne, Gemma trade matching, knowing smirks, as he pulls on his suit jacket with a grimace.

Trying to escape the heat, they're sitting waiting in his Tesla Model X, with the air conditioning already on high when she slides into the front seat and passes the front door key back to Anne.

"Umm, I'm sorry for that little tantrum", she cringes, chuckling awkwardly. "I swear I can literally feel my hormones zipping around my body in this heat... I might feel stir crazy, but I'd never not show up to a family wedding".

Leaning over the centre console, Harry drops a kiss to her temple. "You look beautiful, babe. Positively glowing - in a good way!".

As Anne leans forward to hand her a fan to slip into her clutch, Gemma reaches around the back of her seat to squeeze her shoulder. She's fifteen weeks now, and finally starting to feel a bit better herself. Nine weeks ahead, and with two onboard? She doesn't envy Eloise one bit, but can certainly empathise.

Mumbling bashful "Thank you's", Eloise shifts in her seat, awkwardly smoothing the fabric of her loose chiffon-lined, pale gold, sequin shift mini dress between her thighs and the warm leather.

Dropping down loosely from her boobs, it's relatively light and billowy. Unless it's pulled taut, it's not immediately obvious that she's definitely pregnant. And the light refracts enough from the mattified sequins to help distract the eye from the lines of her shape underneath. She's paired it with some block heeled sandals, but has some flats in her bag too, just in case.

Pulling out the gates, Harry winces when Gemma suggests they could ask their cousin to say something, to help protect their privacy. He cuts wide eyes to her in the rearview mirror.

Eloise just shrugs. "That would probably only draw more attention, no? I was actually thinking that maybe it might not necessarily be a bad thing...".

"How so?", Harry cranes briefly to look at her, taken by surprise.

"Well, the news will break eventually... And if we randomly crop up one day with two babies, some of your most ardent fans would no doubt claim it's 'Baby-Gate' Take Two. They're almost certainly still protesting that us getting married was just some elaborate hoax to cover for you and Louis...". She can only laugh, genuinely baffled. "Maybe being photographed pregnant - ideally sooner rather than later, before I'm the size of an actual house - might help, in the long run?", she shrugs again.

After all these years, she still has the ability to leave him speechless with her logic and forward-thinking. Lifting her hand from her lap, he presses it to his lips, sponging grateful kisses as he drives.

>

It's their first stripped-back Covid wedding, and they're both taken aback and feeling bad for his cousin - especially after the comparatively ludicrous extravagance of theirs last September. With so much planning ultimately going to waste, it's just such bad luck.

But, on the plus side - for Harry and Eloise, at least - the drastically reduced guest list is comprised of mostly just family and a few very close friends. They don't know any of the groom's guests, but their side of the family is certainly a great gang, and it makes for a pretty small affair; relaxed and intimate.

Settled at the far side of a pew on the left-hand side of the stuffy church, Harry subtly fans Eloise with his order of service.

Hemmed in as they are, he can't help but panic when she suddenly lets out a little gasp and curls forward around her bump, letting out a slow, shaky breath.

"El? What-?", he whispers urgently, leaning close.

Shushing him gently as she grapples for his hand to interlace her fingers over his, she then drops their joined hands low, around her bump, to the left-hand side. Cutting her wide eyes up at his, she waits to see the moment of realisation cross his stunningly handsome features.

Did she mention he's wearing the suit from his London Dunkirk premiere? Knowing the effect it had on her at the time, she can't help but wonder if he chose to wear it today, deliberately for her benefit? Either way, she is not complaining... But he has her at risk of swooning from more than just the heat, that's for sure.

The babies have been shifting more and more - often in response to Harry's voice, whether singing or talking or laughing - and she's absolutely certain he would have been able to feel that. Definitely their biggest movement yet so far, it's all she can do to keep from yelping; it feels more like a repeated drop-kick to her spleen for her.

His eyebrows shooting up above wide green eyes, and a beautiful, beaming smile breaking across his face, are all the confirmation she needs.

Entirely captivated, he scoots even closer - suffice to say, he's now giving zero heed to his cousin's nuptials - and experimentally shifts his fingers around. Tapping and pressing gently, he then surreptitiously caresses in awe, as his babies rain resounding little kicks to say hello for the first time.

It's nothing short of magical, for them all.

>  
>

20th August 2020

The following week, it transpired that someone at the wedding must have succumbed to temptation after all.

Honestly, Eloise had envisaged only his most eagle-eyed fans possibly stumbling across some social media photos - not someone selling photos, directly to the press.

But they get it, and imagine it would have been quite the payday for whomever it was.

However, as a result, they've faced countless articles and wild speculation in the week since.

The angle of the photos and the clever lines of that dress aren't entirely irrefutable, but in the original exclusive article, the unnamed source mentioned Harry had been proud as a peacock and fussing attentively over her all day, unable to keep his gentle hands off her. They must have been watching closely, because they also noted that she definitely hadn't drunk at all and drove them home later that night.

Where the articles speculated over dates - given his time in LA, and her size, and assuming it's a single baby - Eloise can't help but panic a bit, when it dawns on her just how early the twins could potentially arrive. There's something about seeing it laid out in stark newspaper print that makes it hit home.

>

As a result, she goes into full-on nesting mode.

The hospital and baby bags are packed and stashed at the ready by the front door.

And there's a frantic push to finish the last of the renovations and decoration that had been delayed due to the stricter earlier lockdowns. The priority being the new double nursery, just across from their master bedroom.

Harry assumes she's probably hiding out from the paparazzi and fans a bit too, but he gets it.

Cooped up in the warm house, he tries to keep her off her feet as much as possible. He shops, cooks, cleans and launders like a champ.

Almost wasted as a bonafide global superstar, he'd have made a wonderfully attentive 1950s housewife, back in the day.

He even goes down a rabbit hole on YouTube, researching the basics of prenatal yoga, pregnancy massage, and pressure points.

However, the latter endeavour was quickly abandoned after Eloise almost accidentally kicked his teeth in when he surprised her, innocently attempting some of his fledgeling reflexology. Her feet have never been more ticklish, and that's saying something.

But his most favourite new hobby, is, perhaps, experimental gastronomy - all in the name of mollycoddling her with an iron-rich diet. He must have been paying extra attention when they were warned about the need to actively manage her anaemia to try to avoid the risk of pre-term labour and low birth weights.

She hangs her head at the kitchen table with a sigh. "H, I adore you, and appreciate all this so much... But if I see another sodding spinach leaf, I will scream... Please, I cannot eat it three times a day!".

"Oh, that's alright! Pass it here, I'll eat it... Maybe that could help counter the risks?", he asks snippily, with his eager, angelic expression disconcertingly at odds with a haughtily piqued eyebrow.

Gaping in disbelief at his tactics, she snips back a "Fuck you", but then proceeds to stab at the spinach with her fork. She eats it all, gagging for good measure, but then stubbornly refuses to speak to him for a couple of hours.

However, after a head, neck and shoulder massage, she's putty in his magical hands once again.

>

They also manage to completely freak themselves out watching online birthing and ante-natal videos.

Holy shit, neither was ready for that.

And without the pretence of needing to behave and pretend to be mature in an in-person class or appointment, they defaulted to bawdy humour, egging each other on until they were falling about laughing.

Harry only called time on it when he genuinely panicked, mistaking Eloise's desperate panting for breath, after laughing so much, for actual labour pains.

Much like the dates in newsprint had been for her, that flash of panic served as quite the catalyst for him too; stressing the importance of buckling down and getting organised.

>

In amongst everything else, they play the name game too. Obviously.

With both of them throwing out random suggestions as and when they think of them, any contenders are scribbled on a Post-It note, and then shuffled around the dining room table, in varying clusters, as their preferences wax and wane.

It only complicates matters that they're still unsure whether they'll have one of each, or two of either. Especially with twins, where you need to consider how names work both individually and as a pair.

They both frequently change their guess, but there are currently more girls names being thrown around than boys.

Another point of contention is the sheer number of friends and acquaintances to contend with - either their own names or their children's. They don't want to step on any toes.

It's a lot to think about, and a huge decision.

They often find the other, staring down at the table, deep in thought, moving the options around a bit.

>

It's exactly where Harry finds Eloise, early on Thursday morning.

Wandering sleepily in, wearing just his boxers and a wild mane of tousled bedhead, he lets out a big cat worthy stretch and yawn before pulling out a chair alongside her, twisting to drop a kiss to her temple.

She can only coo when he then bends to drop a kiss first to one side of her bump, and then to the other, too.

Straightening up with a soft smile, he casts his eyes over the table, and, from the pile of crumpled up and scribbled out Post-Its, hazards a guess that she must have been down here for a while. Insomnia is still proving a nasty bitch.

"Is this just some big ruse to throw out Harriet again? Do I need to check these?", he jokes, poking through the mess.

She snorts a laugh, still chewing on the end of her pen. "Don't start that again! Harriet and Harrison and Ellie and Ellis were firmly vetoed months ago, for good reason, and you know it, you big goof".

There are seven piles.

Names of people they'd love to honour.

Simple, cool, and relatively androgynous names.

Some with a Scandi origin.

Others with a musical connection.

One pile that they can only categorise as 'Pretty names'.

And one for any new suggestions.

Plus a pile of great names, but relegated for future pets.

They'd given up on keeping a discarded names pile. Harry couldn't resist dipping back in and rehashing closed discussions. Like why Myles can't even go on the pets pile; or why, despite how much she loves them both dearly, she couldn't, in good conscience, name a baby boy (if they have one) either Mitchell or Jeffrey. With all due respect, but no; not in 2020.

"So, any new suggestions this morning?", he asks, morning voice extra deep and gravelly.

"None that I haven't already since talked myself out of", she snickers, knowing she's being picky. But fairly so!

They've agreed not to make any final decisions until they can hold the babies in their arms and decide what suits them best. And also not to reveal the options to anyone else until - it's hard enough just juggling their own opinions and preferences as it is.

Harry tugs at his lips, deep in thought, eyes flitting over the piles again. "This feels like a good final shortlist to me", he nods decisively. "Ooh, but we should probably lose Lyra, now", he taps it. "Remember, I said Ed sent me a text the other day, saying that's what they've finally decided on for their little girl?".

"Oh, bummer! That was one of your favourites at one point, wasn't it?".

"You know what? We still haven't talked about godparents yet... Not properly".

"Here", she slides him a fresh Post-It and a pen. "Let's write them down at the same time, then compare".

As it happens, they have exactly the same names. Four girls, three guys; two of whom happen to be couples.

"Well that has to be a good sign!", Eloise laughs.

"How does it work for twins? You and Ollie have different sets of godparents, right?".

"Yep. But I don't think there are any hard and fast rules? We could mix up genders and pairings, or even think about having more than two for each, if we want...".

She taps the end of her pen on one of the names. "I love him to bits, but he's only making it on the final shortlist on one condition...", she smirks at Harry. "That you first teach him how to hold a baby properly! I am not kidding, some of the photos I've seen are genuinely concerning".

Harry can only chuckle. He's in total agreement, as ever.

>  
>

10th Sept 2020

Eloise can only laugh that she thought she felt huge and warm before.

Another four weeks on, and now in her third trimester, she's now really feeling enormous, and suffering from hot flashes in a full-on heatwave.

She's starting to get really uncomfortable, and feeling more than a little stir crazy and cooped up in the house, now that they've blitzed everything in the nursery, and the last of the other decorating work has finally all been finished.

Yesterday, her twenty-eight-week scan revealed some concern on Twin B's growth rate, which has started tailing off somewhat. There's currently a ten percent difference in size, but they start really worrying at twenty-five percent. But she'll now have to return for weekly scans for the the rest of her pregnancy, for them to continue monitoring their progress closely.

Struggling to sleep in the heat himself, Harry wakes up and panics when Eloise isn't in bed or in the ensuite bathroom.

On instinct, he pops his head into the nursery on his way downstairs, and breathes a sigh of relief to find her in the corner by the window. He should have known.

The final piece of furniture to arrive for the nursery was a rocking love seat. A sunny pale yellow, it's squishy but supportive, and she's delighted with it.

He'd already caught her a few times, rocking gently, running her hands over her bump, singing softly to the babies as she gazes around their nursery.

Scandi chic, it's cool, but cosy; all soft and snuggly textures, in a neutral palette with some pastel touches. The shelves are filled with cute teddies, wooden toys and lovely books, and the drawers and wardrobes are full of clothes. They're ready.

Or so he thought.

As he pads over the plush new carpet, barefoot and just in his boxers, his face falls when she lifts her head up, clocking her tears in the moonlight.

As she nuzzles into his warm palm, he wastes no time lifting the light baby blanket from her lap to slide in alongside her. It's a tight fit for two adults, and he can't resist pulling her on to his lap, wanting the closeness to help lend some comfort.

"What's wrong, my love? Is everything okay?", he asks gently. Lightly squeezing the hand resting on top of her bump, he then runs his down over her tank-top clad belly and cotton sleep shorts, then soothingly up and down her bare thigh.

"Just ignore me...", she sighs.

"Never".

Drawing her legs up, she shifts on his lap to be able to look up at him. "I'm sorry if I'm being impossible and a total bitch at the moment. I really am so grateful for you and everything you're doing, baby. You don't have to be so nice to me all the time-".

"Hey, hey... Of course I do! You're doing amazingly. It looks tough enough, but I can't begin to imagine how difficult all these changes really are for you, physically and emotionally... Talk to me. Whatever it is, that always helps, right?", he pleads.

"I'm so fucking tired, but I can't bloody sleep, not properly, and it's just making me daft...", she rolls her eyes at herself and sighs out another long breath.

"I don't think so... What else is going on in there, hmm?", he taps her temple. "I can practically hear the cogs turning and you have your thinking face on....".

"I, just... I can't help but wonder if I've done something wrong? That B's so little?". Fresh tears spill over in worry.

"Oh, El... You're doing amazingly. You're cooking two little people! Dr. Jenkins said differing birth weights are really common, and said she wasn't worried yet. So please try not to stress unnecessarily... You've got enough going on in here, and in here, already", he taps her bump, then cups his palm at the crown of her head.

Sniffing, her chin wobbles tellingly as her fingers worry the tassels at the edge of the blanket, plaiting and unwinding repeatedly.

With her eyes still cast down, she admits lowly. "What if I'm not cut out to be a mum, H?". Braving a look up at his ragged intake of breath, pooled tears spill over the lash line of her watery wide blue eyes. "Mine certainly set a shoddy enough example at times", she can't help but frown.

He can only shake his head, crushed that she's even questioning that. Knowing how heaping praise on her just makes her squirm before it washes straight off her anyway, he pauses for a beat to settle on another approach. He has to get through to her; he can't bear the thought of her beating herself up over this.

"Okay, tell me this...", he pulls her wavy blonde hair out of its loose messy bun. Then, raking his nails against her scalp, he lifts his other hand to massage the nape of her neck, making her arch her back from her perch on his lap. "What makes you think my mum's great?".

With her eyes closed in bliss at his magical fingers, a soft grin stretches unbidden across her face and she lets out a serene sigh before answering easily. "She's the best! Loving, kind, warm, caring, encouraging, approachable, honest, open, fun-".

"See!", he cuts her off. "You instinctively know what makes a great mum. And you are all those things and more... Maybe knowing what you wanted from your mum will only make you all the more aware of it? Just shower them in love and kindness and support and fun, and I promise you, you won't go wrong", he grins encouragingly. "And this is about parenting - you have an incredible bond with your dad. Follow his lead and our babies will be so bloody lucky... No one expects new parents to instantly know what the hell they're doing! It's intuition, and trial and error and learning as you go, right? But we'll be in it together, every single step of the way... We'll figure it all out together, okay? We'll be alright, I promise".

"Together... Okay", She sighs again, this time contentedly, as she drops her forehead to his.

As she shifts to nuzzle against his chest, she whispers up at him, fingers toying with his on top of her bump again. "Do you, umm, think your mum would be willing to come and stay, after they're born? To show me-, us, the ropes?".

He tilts her head back up to ensure she sees his smile and watery eyes before he whispers back. "I think you asking would mean the absolute world to her", he cranes forward to be able to drop a sweet kiss to her lips. "Come on, you can barely keep your eyes open... Let's get you back to bed".

>  
>

30th Sept 2020

Late in her thirty-first week, Eloise is feeling fit to bursting, and genuinely worried she'll be at risk of exploding if she goes to thirty-seven, which is considered full term for twins.

She's still feeling tired and definitely uncomfortable. Just about every joint hurts, and her organs feel crushed; contending with limited lung capacity, killer heartburn, and uncomfortable digestion, and don't even get her started on her poor bladder.

So she's in a mood, but trying desperately to keep a lid on it - especially when Harry's been trying so hard, and going out of his way to be so attentive and sweet. He spoilt her rotten for their first wedding anniversary last week, too.

>

Bright and early this morning, Ollie surprised them with an unannounced visit. 

With the sting of not playing still all too fresh, he's finding himself at a loose end these days. Literally just as the rugby clubs were finally able to re-open, he managed to break his foot again.

With him hobbling around in his clunky air cast, and Eloise waddling around with her hips, pelvis and back giving her no end grief, the big twins are definitely a little short-tempered and getting on each other's nerves.

She swats at him in the kitchen as he hovers around her. "I'm not an invalid, I can make a cup of tea! Fuck off". She's been trying to keep a lid on her mood for Harry; but she makes no such promises for annoying brothers.

But, yikes. Harry's not sure he can deal with two cranky Cadogan's so early in the day. Clearing his throat, he braves it. "I, umm, think I might head out for a run, actually".

"Oh, it's alright for some!".

"Don't rub it in!".

To their immediate resounding grumbles of complaint, he holds his hands up in surrender as he jokingly steps backward out of the kitchen. They shouldn't be too surprised; he's already in his running gear.

Thinking twice, he steps forward again to drop a kiss to Eloise's temple. "Play nice, he's injured", he whispers. Jokingly, he then smacks a kiss to Ollie's forehead as he passes him too, perched on a barstool. "Don't rise to it, please", he begs in an ever lower whisper.

Stepping out the front door, he breathes a sigh of relief as he sorts his Air Pods.

It's shaping up to be one of those picture-perfect Autumn days. With a bright blue sky, the sunlight catches the golds and reds of the turning leaves, still clinging to the trees. It's still mild enough in the sun, but there's a refreshing little bite to the early morning air.

>

Enjoying his run, and the peace, and a fascinating hypo-birthing podcast, Harry decides to double back towards Highgate, for a quick errand.

Meanwhile, leaning heavily against the kitchen sink, Eloise hisses, rubbing heavily at one side of her bump, through the thin ribbed cotton of her midi tank dress.

"Whoa, whoa! Careful...", Ollie hobbles over and drops a hand to her back as she blows out a slow breath.

"Come on...", she whines under her breath.

"What? What is it?", he frets. "Come and sit down".

"No, it hurts less standing", she holds firm, shaking off his hand.

"What does?".

"Pretty much everything, right now", she huffs.

"Well, what can I do? Please, Lol...".

She winces again. "One's kicking the shit out of me, but the other hasn't moved all morning". She gestures first to the lower left of her bump, then rests her tapping fingers higher up on the right-hand side.

"Does it normally?".

"Yeah", she hisses again. "Not quite like the fly-half over here on this side, but still... Shit, what if something's wrong, Ol?", she looks up into his matching blue eyes.

"When did you say your appointment is later?", he frowns.

"Not till 4pm".

"Could you call them, and try to move it earlier?".

"I'm probably just worrying over nothing. There can't be much room left for them to manoeuvre in here".

"It wouldn't hurt to try would it? Don't be a martyr... What's your gut saying?".

She barks a laugh at the irony. "You don't want to know, trust me!". Nudging her right side again, she whispers more gently, pleading. "God, I'd do anything to feel a little rain of kicks right now...

"Give the hospital a call... It's worth a shot".

>

Harry soon bundles back through the front door, juggling a huge bunch of sunflowers.

"Oh, finally!", Ollie makes him jump, pouncing on him in the hall. "Fucking hell, this is stressful", he's flustered and panicky.

"What-?".

"Everything!".

"Ollie, what's wrong?", Harry asks in a no-nonsense tone.

"She's worried-", he frowns.

"El, babe?", Harry cuts him off, calling out for her as he brushes past him to rush into the kitchen. Dumping the flowers on the marble island as he passes, he heads straight for her.

"Oh, you're back?", she asks distractedly, frustratedly trying to slip her Birkenstocks on blindly, not able to see her feet. He squats down to give her a hand. "The hospital can see me sooner... Can we go?".

"How come? What's wrong?", he pops back up, unconsciously cradling her and her bump simultaneously.

"I don't know", she frowns, biting her lip. "One of them's not moving much today... I've just got a funny feeling".

"A physical funny feeling or a gut feeling?", he checks. This isn't their first rodeo on funny feelings.

"It's all in my guts!", she chuckles at the memory too. "I'm not sure, I just-".

"Okay", he cuts her off with a nod and a reassuring peck to her lips. "That's more than enough for me... Do you want to go now-now, or can I grab five minutes for a quick shower first?".

"Of course I'll wait for you", she squeezes his hand as he's already spinning away from her to dash upstairs. "Please can you bring my denim jacket down with you? The Frame one?", she calls out after him. "And thank you for these, they're beautiful!".

True to his word, Harry's ready in under five minutes.

Ollie drops a kiss to Eloise's cheek and squeezes her hand on their way out, calling after them as Harry helps Eloise into the car. "I'll post the keys through the letterbox when I lock up. Let me know how you get on, yeah?".

With the Wednesday mid-morning traffic behaving itself, they arrive at The Portland hospital within fifteen minutes.

>

"Well, you definitely made the right call to come in", Dr. Jenkins finally speaks after eyeballing the ultrasound monitor and printed readings, and listening intently to the foetal Doppler.

Twin B is starting to show signs of struggling a bit. Now just over fifteen percent smaller, it's heartbeat also sounds a little weaker than Twin A's, and a bit faster too.

She makes the call to admit Eloise straight away, for continued monitoring and observation. 

The bed rest can only do her good, and she warns them that there's a chance Eloise might to be in the hospital for a while, so they can keep a close eye.

>

Once they're led to a private room and the nurse promises to return with a gown for her, Eloise wastes no time in folding - slightly sideways now, by necessity - into Harry's arms, struggling to allay her panic.

"Shit, I'm so not ready for this... And there's still so much to do!".

"It's okay, baby. We'll be alright; we all will", he hopes he sounds more reassuring than he feels.

As the nurse bustles back in, Harry spots the narrow day bed on the other side of the large room. "Will I be able to sleep there?", he gestures with his chin, still holding Eloise tight.

"During and immediately after labour? Sure. But not yet... Sorry, hospital policy", she frowns at their disappointed sighs. "I'll leave the gown here and give you a minute. I'll be outside, just let me know when you're ready and we'll get you hooked up", she squeezes Eloise's arm kindly.

"I'm not ready to be apart from you again... I can't do this alone", she admits quietly once the door shuts.

"I don't want to sleep away from you three either". God, he gets it. Dropping a kiss to the crown of her head, he takes a beat, breathing in the ever-illusive scent of her shampoo. "But you're not alone in any of this, Eloise, and you never will be".

It hits them; they'll soon be a family of four. Wow.

After helping her undress and don the hospital gown - with a playful grope of her bare bum through the split at the back, to lend some levity - he pulls her close again. Dragging his hands from her shoulders to either side of her jaw to thumb gentle strokes along her cheekbones, he gazes down at her, reverently.

"It will all be alright, El, I promise", he leans in to seal it with a kiss, whispering against her lips. "You're making all my dreams come true, you know that?".

He pulls back and offers her a soft smile, "My brave girl! Just a few more weeks of this, love... It will all be so, so worth it in the end".

A/N 2: Excited to hear your thoughts...! And any guesses or predictions?! Genders, names, godparents?! There may be some clues copied below... ;)

Again, I've done a lot of research, but haven't experienced this myself... So if you have and spot any glaring errors, please send me a message and enlighten me! I also tried to reflect Covid complications accurately, but will almost certainly have taken a few liberties for either a little storytelling license or just woeful ignorance... I have nothing but the utmost respect for the incredible work of all medical professionals, and for any new mums, who have had it tougher than ever this year... But in case there's anything concerning anyone, please just message me!


	3. Part C

A/N: Trigger warning - this chapter includes reference to childbirth. If that's a sensitive subject for you, please feel free to message me with any questions you might have before reading.  
I wanted to reflect Covid complications accurately, but you'll see I have taken some liberties for creative license - particularly with regards to rules around hospital attendance and visitation... Even for a private hospital. Please do NOT take any such liberties in real life, and continue adhering to the rules in your area - use ever having the chance to see Harry live in person again as motivation if you must! But, seriously, props to all the medical professionals and new parents who struggled with incredibly tough conditions and limitations in 2020. You're all heroes! Xx

30th September 2020 (continued)

Once Eloise was hooked up to various monitors, a procession of new faces dropped by her room throughout the morning, all eager to introduce themselves.

With Dr. Jenkins serving as Eloise's primary consultant for her pregnancy, labour and recovery, a matron named Robyn will be their main point of contact for the twins after their birth. Not only a veteran of neonatal intensive care nursing, but she's also a lactation consultant, and proves an all-round delight - kind and approachable, with a calming vibe.

After introducing the two primary neonatal specialists and all the nurses assigned to them too, Robyn talks Eloise and Harry through how the post-birth requirements differ by birth plan - from natural and induced labours, to a caesarean, or even a terrifying half-way house between the two. The latter of which is something Eloise decides she'd rather not even entertain.

After talking through some questions and concerns, they spend some time just chatting for a while, getting to know each other.

She acknowledges that she knows who they are, when she asks about how the entertainment industry quietened down during lockdown - but she's genuinely curious rather than nosy. She also cheekily congratulates them for their timing - just ahead of the huge spike of lockdown conceptions due to start hitting their wards in another month or two.

Then, they're interrupted when one of Eloise's monitors suddenly starts bleating loudly.

Whilst Harry jumps up in alarm and Eloise starts panicking, Robyn remains cool as a cucumber.

Calmly stepping up to the bank of monitors, she scans the various printouts, then, whilst double-checking the contact of the sensors taped to Eloise's bump, surreptitiously presses the big red button above the bed.

The whole time, she gently talks through what she's doing and explains what she's looking for. Seemingly unflappable too, her openness and soothing tone make all the difference.

>

Which is reassuring, when things turn a little dramatic, a lot sooner than they were expecting.

That very same day, only just after noon, one of the foetal heart rate monitors sounded in alarm again.

Eyes darting around at the bustle of doctors and nurses swarming around her bed yet again, Harry can only sit back - trying to keep out the way, but yet close enough to keep hold of a panicking Eloise's hand. On edge from the few times the alarm sounded already, he's starting to feel increasingly worried himself.

With Dr. Jenkins attending to Eloise, he reluctantly steps out of her room, called to the maternity ward's reception desk to sign-in Anne and Crispin. They happened to arrive at the same time, after both passing the hospital's rigorous Covid screening protocols.

His mum headed straight down from Holmes Chapel upon hearing the news that Eloise was being admitted for at least a few days. She'd swung via the house in Hampstead too, to collect Eloise's bag.

Harry's message to the 'Twin Watch' family WhatsApp group also had her dad heading over from his Mayfair office, just to check in and try to lend some distraction for a couple of hours.

Whilst waiting for their visitor passes, Harry updates them on the dramatic turn to their morning, which he'd not yet had time to relay via WhatsApp.

Keeping a close eye on the comings and goings from Eloise's door, he spots Dr. Jenkins emerge, pausing at the doorway to update Robyn and a number of the nurses.

Already distracted, he stops talking as she approaches. "Excuse me. Harry, can I have a word?".

"Is everything okay?", he panics.

"These must be the soon-to-be grandparents?", she smiles brightly. "Wow, I can see the resemblance!".

"This is Anne, my mum, and Crispin, Eloise's dad", he introduces them.

"How are they?", he nods to Eloise's room. "You can update all of us...", he prompts, tugging nervously at his lips, and brow already furrowed in concern.

"Everything's alright, for now, so no need to worry just yet...", she reassures him and pats his forearm soothingly. "But with Eloise's blood pressure dropping a bit, and Twin B's heart rate higher than I'd like, there's only so much I can do whilst those numbers are going in opposite directions... And I need to keep Twin A stable too".

Reassured at his intense focus, she gives some new news. "Eloise's core temperature has now dropped too. We need to keep a close eye on that, as it can be a precursor to labour".

With Harry's brows rocketing skywards, she pauses for a beat, eyeing him carefully as she continues. "So, all things considered, I'm might need to recommend a Caesarean section... It's not yet an emergency, but, based on the charts right now and the direction they seem to be going in, it could become a bit more urgent as the day progresses... If it looks like she is in early labour, I don't want Twin B to get any more stressed, so you should prepare yourselves, okay?".

"I wanted to let you know first, so that you can help keep Eloise calm when I tell her... But take a minute, because I'll wager your heart's hammering right now...". Her fingers drop to feel the pulse in his wrist. "Yep", she nods with a knowing smile.

"Will I need to keep an eye on him too? Is he squeamish or a fainter?", she turns to his mum with a cheeky smile.

With Anne's arm slung around his waist and Crispin's hand squeezing his shoulder, she can see that they have a good support system in place, but still. "Is that all clear? I know it's a lot to take in... This is a big deal and a potentially a very big day for you too, Harry".

He smiles weakly and clears his throat. "Joking aside, how worried are you, really? How low is her blood pressure? What are the risks? And for the babies, too, this early?", he blurts. "You have to know that woman in there is my whole world", he can't help but choke up a little.

"Yeah, I can see that... Trust me", Dr. Jenkins squeezes his forearm again, before leaning in, conspiratorially. "Not to toot my own horn, but I can assure you that she's in the best place and in very safe hands... Yes, they will still be small if they deliver soon, but nothing I'd be overly worried about. So if 'better out than in' looks like the safest scenario for any one of them, I will not hesitate to make that call... But I will keep you both informed and up to date, every single step of the way up until that point and beyond... I promise".

Blowing out a deep breath, he can only nod wordlessly, so grateful for her.

She casts a knowing look to Anne and Crispin before patting his arm affectionately. "Take a minute and follow me back in when you're ready, okay?", she gestures over her shoulder to Eloise's room with her thumb. "...And, when you do, prepare to see the magic of a father's touch, because I want you to climb on to the bed, in place of the pillows behind her, and wrap your arms tight around her chest... Avoid the bump and all the wires, but I want her and them to feel your warmth, slow breathing and steady heart rate... It will make a real difference, I assure you".

Some validation of his role in all this is at once doubly reassuring and rousing. It's certainly not her first rodeo.

>

Once she leaves, Harry whirls back around to face his mum and Crispin, reeling. With wide eyes, he swallows thickly, "Oh, God...".

After scrubbing his hands over his face, taking a deep breath, and squaring his shoulders, he heads back to Eloise - appearing, at least, more confident than he feels.

Despite having been at her side all morning, he's taken aback when he sees her again. Hooked up to IVs and sensors, draped with wires and surrounded by monitors and equipment, she looks little in the wide bed, and relatively dwarfed by her big bump.

But the worrying new development is that she's now visibly shivering, with an extra blanket draped loosely over her and tucked right up under her chin.

At Dr. Jenkins' nod, he strides forward, dropping a kiss to Eloise's forehead before carefully climbing up to nestle behind her. Crossing his arms around her chest, he rubs her upper arms over the blanket. Hooking his chin over her shoulder, he whispers in her ear. "It's okay, my love, I'm here...Try to breathe with me, nice and slow...", he coaches.

Through her chattering teeth, he can just about make out her response. "Too slow... Can't hold my breath that long".

Shit. Feeling out of his depth, his anxiousness only grows.

>

As her shivering subsides, already feeling exhausted, Eloise melts against Harry's chest.

He has one hand soothingly playing with her hair, as the other, entwined with hers, rests low on the notably still side of her bump.

She never feels safer than when she's in his arms.

But it's not quite enough.

>

Twin B's heart rate doesn't come back down as hers settles.

By 2pm, after checking all the monitors and readouts again, and then giving her a physical exam that has Harry wincing and shifting in his seat, Dr. Jenkins makes the call.

She just can't risk Twin B getting distressed if Eloise progresses into a protracted natural labour.

Catching Harry's eye, she nods before perching on the edge of the bed and dropping a comforting hand to her thigh as she breaks the news.

After a sharp intake of breath, Eloise stays quiet for a few heavy seconds, with her gaze locked down at her bump. Then, with a squeeze of Harry's gently stroking, soothing fingers, she lifts her head. "Okay", she simply nods. "If it's what's safest, then let's do it, of course".

Certain something wasn't quite right, she'd had a feeling might be coming... Call it a mother's intuition.

"Oh, my brave baby...", Harry drops sweet kisses to her hand from his perch alongside her bed.

"Nine weeks early though... They're going to be so tiny-", she frowns, casting her wide eyes from him to Dr. Jenkins.

Seeing all the familiar, warring emotions flit over her face - determined, protective, excited, anxious, worried, scared - Dr. Jenkins jumps in to assure her. "I'm not unduly worried", she shakes her head. "You're just a few days shy of the magical thirty-two-week mark. They'll be little, but not dangerously so. This is the safest course of action, for all three of you... Do you have any questions?".

"Not about the procedure, but is Robyn around? To talk us through everything that will happen afterwards again?".

"Of course. Let me call her down now to chat with you whilst I go and get the ball rolling... Harry, do you want me to update your parents?".

"They're here already?", Eloise whips her head to him in surprise.

"Just my mum and your dad for now", he nods. "They headed straight over after hearing you'd been admitted".

A touched and grateful Eloise bites her lip, grinning up at Dr. Jenkins again. "Are they allowed in here? I really want to see their reactions when they hear they'll be grandparents today!", she can't help but grin, feeling an unmistakeable hopeful glimmer of excitement, despite all the worry.

>

Feeling reassured after speaking with Robyn, and more relaxed after hanging out with Anne and Crispin for a bit, the four of them abruptly stop laughing when there's a rap of knuckles on the door frame.

Craning around, they find Dr. Jenkins, the anaesthesiologist and Robyn all looming in the doorway, scrubbed up and ready to go.

"Oh, okay...", Eloise gulps.

"Wow, this is really happening, isn't it?", Harry's grin is equal parts excited and nervous.

With hugs and kisses and good luck wishes and plenty more words of reassurance and a few more happy tears, Anne and Crispin leave them to it, retreating to the waiting room.

After being talked through the procedure and its risks, Eloise signs the consent form and is prepped for surgery.

It's not quite a full emergency, but everyone definitely moves with a focused efficiency. This is really happening; and soon.

A little cautious, given her reactions to both morphine and a general anaesthetic a few years ago, after some deliberation, the anaesthesiologist decides to go with an epidural block. In preparation, a catheter is inserted too, and a nurse swaps out her IVs, administering the usual antibiotics, antacids and anti-emetics.

Just after 3pm, she's given the green light.

It's showtime.

>

Approaching the double doors of the operating theatre, Harry is directed to the changing room and instructed to wait until he's called. After parting with a final kiss and whispered "I love you's", he leans heavily against the doorjamb, watching as she's wheeled through.

Shifted on to the operating table, she sits perched, leaning forward with her legs hanging over one side, and her spine bared through her open gown.

"Is he not allowed in here in case anything goes wrong?", she asks curiously, in a bid to distract herself, more than a little nervous.

"It's a delicate procedure, to place it just right...", the anaesthesiologist explains gently before Dr. Jenkins jumps back, in lending some levity again.

"And you wouldn't believe how many partners blanch just at the sight of it... Our attention needs to be on mum and baby, not scraping anyone off the floor!", she laughs heartily.

But Harry's not usually squeamish, and Eloise just knows that he'll be wearing a hole in the floor, pacing. He'll be like a caged tiger after three minutes, let alone thirty. 

Hugging her bump for a final time, she wills herself to keep calm for the babies' sake. Flitting her eyes around the stark, bright room and its ten or so attendants, it feels entirely overwhelming and yet somehow disassociating at the same time. When she spots Robyn and her team bustling around two big incubators along the far wall, she can't take her eyes off them - primed and ready for their new inhabitants.

It's only then that it really hits her - they're going to meet them so soon.

She can only hope everything goes smoothly, and has to trust that this team will see them all through safely.

>

Twenty minutes after the epidural block is administered - she can't say it didn't hurt at all, but less than a metal tube puncturing her lumbar spine had rights to - and once Eloise can still just about feel his hard pinches, but without any pain, the anaesthesiologist gives Dr. Jenkins the nod.

She pops her head over the drape and Eloise can tell she's smiling behind her mask. "Shall we get that hubby of yours in here, and get this show on the road?".

>

Having quickly donned a pair of scrubs in the changing room, Harry had indeed anxiously paced up and down, before sitting heavily on a bench and attempting to meditate.

But the occasional muffled noises he can hear from the theatre next door prove too distracting, and, with a resigned sigh, he resorts to wasting time on his phone.

Scrolling through the album where he'd saved Eloise's weekly bump photos, he can't help but grin. Flicking through them in awe, with his grin stretching progressively wider, he's a little taken aback to realise there are only sixteen; and, two of them, she'd snapped herself and sent him when he was in Italy.

In the grand scheme of things, four months really isn't much time to process the news of her being pregnant, let alone comprehend them now being about to meet their babies. It feels like it's both flown by and been forever, all at the same time.

Getting lost in his thoughts, he distractedly tosses his phone between his hands, but stills when he catches sight of Eloise, lit up on his lock screen. God, she's his everything...

Needing everything to go okay, he whispers urgent prayers to anyone who might be listening.

Then, he thinks of a few people who might be more likely to answer, and swipe to open his 'DadChat🕺' WhatsApp group - him, Ben, James, Tom, Adam, Cal, Liam, Louis, Ed, and a few others.

He sends them a rare selfie - but this one, tellingly, in scrubs and with an excited-but-terrified expression - and follows it up with a message asking for any last-minute advice.

The lads don't disappoint.

'Ahhhh, good luck!! I'll have to prepare a spot for El on the MILF list! And remember, James works for boys and girls these days...'. Corden is entirely predictable and can fuck right off.

'Put your bloody phone away and go and hold my little sister's hand!!!!'. He's been a godsend for patiently answering all his random questions so far, so Harry actually expected something slightly more profound from Ben there.

'Beware a mamma bear's strength... We need those musician hands in working order, mate!'. He should have guessed, from Tom.

'Fuckin' exciting! Bet you're being a right sappy bastard right now?!'. Predictable too, from Louis. And he quickly follows it up with another. 'Can you send another pic without pulling that stupid face? Could make a mint selling it on the sly, and no doubt inspire a million doctor Harry fanfics...'.

'Tommo- such a twat! Best of luck, H!! So exciting. No feeling like it, you'll see... Those two babies are about to realise just how much they've lucked out in the parent stakes! Can't wait to meet them. Lots of love to you both'. Liam's incredibly sweet message leaves a lump in his throat.

Blinking away tears before they can spill, he stares down at his lock screen again as he focuses on centring and preparing himself - as he would if he were about to step out on stage or on set. 'Daddy' is a new role, but hands down the one he's most excited for.

He's interrupted when a nurse pops her head around the door with a grin. "It's time! Are you ready?".

>

Once his hands and arms have been thoroughly scrubbed, Harry is ushered into the operating theatre.

He peeks a final look at Eloise's bump over the partition before he sits down beside her. Even stained brown, swabbed with iodine, it's still glorious. He knows he'll miss it a bit - well, until next time, he can't help but grin to himself.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?", he whispers, checking in, unable to resist dropping a kiss to her lips as she lolls her head towards him and reaches for his hand.

God, she's relieved and happy to see him. Smoothing her hand over his tousled hair, she just knows he's been tugging at it.

"Right, are you two ready to meet these babies?!", Dr. Jenkins asks from the other side of the partition. "Give me ten minutes or so... Just shout if you have any questions or concerns".

It's odd. Eloise is aware of a little pressure, but it feels weirdly abstract, and certainly not painful.

But why does no one warn you about the noises? The suction, and slurping, squelching... God.

Seeing Harry's slightly ashen face, she can't help but fret over him. "Are you okay?", she squeezes his hand.

"Am I okay? Babe, are you serious?!", he can't help but bark an incredulous laugh, lending some levity to the room.

After another five minutes, whispering softly to each other all the while, sillily trading increasingly ridiculous name combinations, Eloise starts to fuzzily feel some tugging. Her body shifts slightly with the pressure of Dr. Jenkins' burrowing and manoeuvring.

They notice the surgeons and nurses get quiet and serious.

Then, feeling a sudden release of pressure, she gasps. Being able to take a fuller breath, for the first time in months, feels incredible. She knows in an instant that the first baby must be out.

Panicking at her reaction, Harry fears the worst, until he sees her lips pull into a knowing, serene smile.

Before he can react, Dr. Jenkins gets their attention by leaning towards the partition. "Here's number one - baby boy Styles! Congratulations!".

They both gasp again as she briefly lifts up a little bundle, cradled carefully in both her hands.

Really little, he's all scrawny and pink, and lets out a quiet mewl before he's whisked away, handed straight over to the neonatologists.

From his higher perch on a stool, Eloise sees Harry's wide eyes following him to the back of the room.

Feeling her heart clench at the tiny baby - her son! - disappearing so quickly, her welling tears spill as she looks up adoringly at Harry. "Hi, Daddy", she whispers.

She'll never forget the look on his face as he gazes down at her, full of awe, pride and love.

He can't even get out the word "Mummy" before he's caught off-guard by a sob. Burying his head against her temple, Harry presses kisses and whispers excitedly, despite his shock. "Wow! A boy! It's a boy! We have a son! Oh, my God, thank you".

But they both still at the same time, noticing the deathly silence in the room.

"Is he okay?", Harry asks tentatively, sitting back up and swiping the happy tears from his cheeks.

Eloise can only hold her breath. Unable to see anything, she stares, unblinking, at his face, desperately trying to read his expression.

There's another beat of silence before the baby lets out a faint cry, cueing a collective sigh of relief.

Dr. Jenkins promptly disappears from view behind the partition again, bending down over Eloise.

Practically holding their breaths, they cut their panicky eyes from each other to her when she stands tall again less than a minute later.

"Okay, almost got her...", Dr. Jenkins calls out. "Robyn, at the ready please, coming straight for you and team B".

Craning back to look at each other they gasp again. Her.

With some more vague pulling and tugging, and then another release of pressure, and a shocked inhale as her lungs finally fill with a full breath, Eloise knows she's been delivered.

But this time, the sensation leaves her feeling bereft. They're gone. No longer a part of her.

And, this time, the baby isn't held above the fabric drape.

Instead, she's whisked straight to the expert team at the back of the operating theatre.

Worried tears spill and stream continuously down both their cheeks.

At the sight of the two teams working hushedly but hurriedly on both their tiny babies, whilst Dr. Jenkins still attends to Eloise, Harry can't bear to watch.

Focusing his gaze down, he bows his head shakily to hers, peppering kisses as he tries to soothe her with whispered words, despite feeling like he's falling apart at the seams himself. "It's okay... They'll be okay... You'll be okay... It has to be okay... I love you, so much".

It feels so precarious.

They'd been warned that premature babies don't always cry when they're born. But they can't help but hold out hope - desperate to hear a peep from either one of them, just to know they're okay.

Despite the various noises around the operating theatre, listening attentively for the one sound that can't be heard, somehow blurs out the rest.

It makes for an oppressively silent and wretched couple of minutes.

"Please-", Eloise sobs, calling out, unable to bear it. "Tell us-".

Just as Dr. Jenkins pops her head back over the partition, she's interrupted as Robyn calls out. "Harry, can you tug down the neck of Eloise's gown for me?".

Then, rounding the partition, she reaches down to place their naked, tiny, baby boy briefly on to her chest.

They can both only stare in awed disbelief, rendered entirely speechless.

"Here's your little prince! He's very small - just three pounds and nine ounces - but looks perfect, and he's breathing remarkably well".

Lifting shaky, gentle hands, Eloise and Harry both hold their breaths as they touch him for the first time, drinking him in despite their eyes swimming with tears.

He's tiny.

Harry's broad hand spans significantly wider than his whole back, and the tip of Eloise's index finger isn't much smaller than his entire hand. Lacking that crucial layer of baby fat, he feels positively scrawny. And his pink skin has a layer of very fine, downy hair, but he looks perfect.

"Have you got him?", Robyn checks, surprising them when, at their nods, she adds, "Great! Let me see if the little princess is ready for you...".

Holy shit.

Eloise reaches to kiss Harry before craning her neck to drop a gentle kiss to the baby's tiny head, over his very fine and wispy dark blonde hair. Stroking a fingertip over his fragile little arms and legs and scrawny bum, she breaks into a smile, cooing as he lets out a quiet grunt, then wriggles slightly on her chest.

>

They're both crying and babbling and staring, totally overwhelmed and overflowing with love, when Robyn and a neonatal nurse return after another couple of minutes, wheeling an enclosed incubator alongside the operating table.

Eloise can only gasp, and cradle her son a tiny bit tighter.

Ridiculously, he seems huge in comparison.

Securing her hand across his back, over Harry's, she reaches out her other and presses it against the perspex of the incubator, adjacent to the tiny little scrap inside, wearing just a teeny pink hat.

Nestled amongst a soft white blanket, she lies on her back, with her arms and legs splayed. There's a tube administering oxygen taped to her nose, and, with cannulas and IV lines already littering her tiny arms, it looks like she's wearing boxing gloves.

"She's only three pounds and two ounces, but she's a fighter, I can tell... Just look at those mitts!", Robyn reassures them as the neonatal doctor drapes a warming foil blanket over her from the other side of the incubator. "I know she looks really mini, but she's in relatively good shape, okay?".

"We need to get her straight up the neonatal intensive care unit though. We'll get her hooked up to all the monitors and check her out thoroughly, whilst working to get her temperature back up too", the doctor explains.

"We'll do the same with him too, but can give you a bit longer for a cuddle, okay?". Robyn adds as she reaches over with a tiny blue hat for him.

"No!", Eloise snaps out of her daze. Still staring at her daughter, she shakes her head before cutting her wide eyes up to Robyn. "Can't they stay together? Please, check him out too... I can wait", she pleads, before turning to look at Harry. "Can you go with them? To make sure they're okay?".

He's torn. "I need to make sure you're okay too, El", he frowns, cutting his eyes from her to Robyn and then Dr. Jenkins.

"Please, H? I'm fine. I'll be fine", she insists.

"Congratulations you two!", Dr. Jenkins cheers, peering over the drape. "Your wife is in good hands, Harry, I promise".

As she reaches for their son, Robyn pauses and asks him, "Have you got your phone on you? You'll have both of them out with you soon enough, but you've got to get the first photo, right?".

Matching her grin, he pulls it from the pocket of his scrubs, and swipes to clear the tonne of messages and notifications to open the camera, before passing it to her. He stands and crouches behind the operating table, with one hand on his son's bum and the other reaching behind Eloise to try to touch his daughter's incubator.

They're both beaming and teary, shocked and awed, and so in love.

Robyn hands him back his phone, then gently scoops the baby from Eloise's chest to take him back to his incubator,

Harry, totally overcome, drops his free hand to cradle the crown of Eloise's head, looking down at her reverently, with glossy eyes and a brilliant smile - his mooniest ever, by a mile. Shaking his head in disbelief, he whispers a reverent "Thank you" before diving in to kiss her smiling lips.

Pulling back, he offers her his brightest, most dazzling, megawatt, dimpled grin. "I love you more than I can possibly put into words. You've made me the happiest man ever, all over again... Take care, my love. I'll be straight back with you as soon as they're settled".

She shakes her head, craning her neck, hoping for a final look at them in their incubators, now side by side. "Stay with them H, please? I'll be fine... They need you".

"We'll be alright, and I'll see you soon. We love you".

Pausing at the swinging double doors, he turns back to look at her one last time, and delights to find her still looking him, them.

Clutching a hand to his wildly beating heart, he blows her a kiss.

When she blows one back, he catches it and spins to slide it into his pocket, jumping up and knocking his heels together in glee for good measure.

With a pointed look, watery and weighty, she scrunches her nose then tips her chin at him, gesturing for him to follow their babies.

>

Practically skipping down the corridor behind the incubators and the crowd of doctors and nurses attending to them, Harry snaps his head up and spins when he hears his name called.

Looking around, he spots his mum and Crispin, hovering eagerly in the doorway of the relatives' waiting room.

With a quick nod to Robyn to indicate that he'll catch them straight up, he dashes over, swiping at the fresh stream of happy tears from his cheeks.

"One of each!", he bubbles through wet laughter, gesturing down the hall towards the incubators with a sweep of his arm. "Our little prince and princess! They're tiny - especially her - but seem okay... They're going straight to NICU for tests and stuff now, so El made me go with them... They're just finishing up with her".

But when Robyn calls out to hurry him along, he accepts a big dual hug and cheers and congratulations, and promises to head back as soon as they're all settled.

Jogging to catch up with the babies, he feels elated and deliriously happy, and can't quite envisage ever coming back down to earth.

>

But, after his first, sobering, taste of the neonatal intensive care unit, Harry's feet soon do touch the ground. With a literal stumble, in fact.

As he rounds the corner to the recovery ward, he stops in his tracks, immediately horrified.

Within thirty minutes of being wheeled from the bustling operating theatre, and into the hushed quiet of the recovery ward, Eloise succumbed to a deep sleep, immediately feeling an intense exhaustion as that shot of the hormone oxytocin surges through her system.

It came as a relief. In the oppressively silent and otherwise empty ward, her racing thoughts were only getting louder as she felt increasingly weary. It's mind-boggling to try and comprehend the extent to which everything has just changed for them, within just in the last sixty minutes or so.

She's officially a mother, and they're parents to two tiny humans, who will depend upon them for everything... Holy shit.

However, not too long later, she was rudely awoken from dizzyingly vivid dreams, filled with pink and blue, to find herself alone and feeling desperately cold. Far more so than she had before the birth.

After bustling back in again - every five minutes, like clockwork - her nurse then hurried straight back out, to fetch her extra blankets and call for Dr. Jenkins.

It was then that things escalated. 

Luckily for Eloise, but less so for Harry, he stepped foot on the ward just as incredibly intense, teeth-chattering shivers start wracking her frame.

Dashing forward in a blind panic, he can only lean over her and brace her by the shoulders, literally pinning her down in the bed to try to limit her movement and protect her fresh stitches. Still fumbling to find the emergency alarm, he thinks she's having a fit until he just hears the whimpers slipping out from between her chattering teeth.

When Dr. Jenkins rushes in, draping her in heat blankets and checking her vitals, she's able to quickly reassure them. It's just the onset of postpartum chills - an extreme drop in core temperature caused by the sudden reduction in blood volume, plus a flood of hormones. It's fairly common, and only last ten minutes or so, but that doesn't mean the experience isn't wholly unsettling.

It eventually subsides, leaving Eloise even more exhausted, and Harry completely rattled. Heart still pounding, he holds her hand tightly and settles at her bedside, resolving to keep a close watch for himself.

She nods off again, but only dozes lightly this time. Each time she wakes again, it's always with a bright smile for him, with an eager question about the twins.

>

As the hours tick by, Eloise experiences a weird tingling sensation as she starts to regain some feeling in her abdomen and legs.

When her blood pressure dips again, she starts feeling a little dizzy and nauseous. It's disconcerting, but the adjustment is to be expected, given the cocktail of hormones and drugs running amuck around her system.

Robyn is a welcome relief when she bustles through the door again, volunteering another update on how the babies are doing. The woman is a literal angel... The thought had already crossed both their minds early on, but now it seems irrefutable.

Once she ascertains that Eloise is indeed more awake this time, she perches on the edge of her bed, evidently intending less of a flying visit.

"As soon as Dr. Jenkins gives me the nod, I'll wheel you straight up to the NICU, I promise. But A and B are doing well... So well, in fact, that they're already getting a bit hangry on us. So, if you're feeling up to it, now could be a good time to try expressing some milk for them?".

They'd chatted earlier about breastfeeding and Eloise being keen to give it a go. She's disappointed not to get to feed them directly immediately, but understands that at nine weeks premature they'd be unlikely to be able to suckle themselves for another few weeks yet anyway, and being so little means the nutrient-rich initial milk - colostrum - is all the more vital for them.

She reaches for the tie of her gown at her collarbone immediately.

"Good girl! I do always love an eager student!", Robyn grins. "I trust it's nothing this one hasn't seen before?", she jokes, gesturing to Harry, who can only scoff a laugh from her bedside. "Now there's an electric pump you can try later, but let's see how you get on trying it by hand, first... It tends to be a bit more forgiving for the first day or so as your milk starts coming in... Now, I've seen and touched every size and shaped boob and nipple imaginable, so don't be shy, and ask me anything at all! And, remember, it will feel a bit weird to begin with, but it shouldn't hurt, okay?".

After Robyn grabs some supplies - returning with a warm towel and sterilised containers - she demonstrates both the positioning and massaging technique. And Eloise soon gets the hang of it; adjusting her grip and then swapping to her other breast, intent on expressing as much as possible for them.

Harry can't help but watch, entirely fascinated and all the more in awe of her and her body. He's never been more certain that women are undeniably the fairer sex.

Once she's done, after about ten minutes or so, they both shower her with praise.

Robyn, scurrying off to head back upstairs to administer the twins' first feeds through their feeding tubes, leaves them alone again with a little bit of hope, for good measure. "You'll be feeding them both directly soon enough, I can promise you that. Patience and perseverance, that's all you need... Well, and drinking gallons of water!".

>

It's almost four hours after giving birth, that Eloise finally gets to lay eyes on the babies again.

Checking her over during the final rounds of the day, Dr. Jenkins confirms she can be transferred from the recovery ward and back up to her private room.

But Robyn, angel that she is, commandeers her bed from the porter on their way, and steers her straight up to the NICU.

>

Casting her eyes around, Eloise takes in the detail of the quiet and lowly-lit ward. The heat and humidity will take some getting used to as well.

She's taken aback by the sheer amount of machinery and technology - all humming, ticking or beeping. A myriad of screens, and a tangle of tubing and wires surround each incubator.

As they pass through, she counts ten different stations spread around the spacious ward.

With Robyn chatting softly but animatedly, Eloise feels guilty that they're disrupting the hallowed peace, but it appears that only two other stations are currently in use.

One has a nurse and mother in attendance, and the other, just two parents. And, as they all none too surreptitiously cast their eyes over her, having clocked Harry earlier, Eloise realises she hadn't yet even considered the issue of privacy on the ward.

But the thought slips from her mind entirely, as soon as she sees that the two newest inhabitants occupy the two incubators positioned either side of the far corner.

She's wholly unable to take her eyes off them.

Just in tiny hats, mittens and socks, they look dwarfed by their miniature nappies. She has a tiny oxygen mask alongside her head. Both have cannulas in their arms, and are hooked up to intravenous drips, providing fluids and medications. And little sensors, stuck on various parts of their bodies, send data to the monitors tracking their progress and vital signs - including heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, temperature, and seemingly a hundred more stats besides.

Nestled in their incubators, they're absolutely tiny, but so perfect, and she's completely besotted in an instant. They look so fragile, and she feels completely helpless just peering at them through the perspex incubators.

It's, simultaneously, wonderfully reassuring to see them again, but also entirely overwhelming that they seem to need quite so much help.

When she tears her gaze up to Harry, and then Robyn, she can't help but whimper as her vision swims with tears.

As he perches on the edge of her bed to hold her hand, Robyn's starts talking them through what's what, and how well they're doing.

With all the initial tests and examinations now complete, the doctors have said they're both in pretty remarkable shape, considering how premature they are.

They'll continue monitoring him, but, for now, it's looking like they'll just need to help keep his temperature stable and feed him via the tube until he's developed enough to manage himself. At this rate, he shouldn't need to stay in the NICU for long, and will be able to move to a lesser-dependency ward.

They're still monitoring her heart rate closely, but it's been stable and gradually rallying. The oxygen was to help with her saturation levels, but, again, they've responded well too. She'll need to learn to feed too, and her temperature is still taking a bit longer than his to come back up.

All things considered, it's the best news they could have possibly hoped for. And then some.

Robyn brings Eloise closer to each incubator in turn, so that she can reach through the hand holes on the side, to be able to stroke them. Their skin is so soft, but they feel impossibly delicate and frail.

After just a few minutes, Robyn chuckles, receiving a page. "Oops, I'm being told off again! We need to get you downstairs to your room, but we'll get you back up here tomorrow morning, I promise!".

>

Soon, with Eloise settled back in her room and almost immediately dozing again in bed, Harry finally changes back into his jeans and shirt.

Heading to find his mum and Crispin, now joined by Elin and Ollie, he can't resist gushing about Eloise and the babies, and showing off their precious few photos so far.

His beaming grin and watery eyes say it all. "They're perfect! All three of them are just perfect... Sleepy, but perfect".

"Oh, H!", Anne coos. "My baby has babies! Come here... I'm so proud of you", she hugs him tightly again. "I can't wait to meet them!", she gushes.

"Any names? We're dying to know!", Ollie asks.

"All in good time!", Harry laughs. "I want to be there when El wakes up again, but I'll let you know as soon as she's ready for visitors, okay?".

But gazing at the photos has him itching to make a quick detour, so he heads via the NICU to check in on the babies again... Only to find that Robyn has some shocking news for them.

>

Just a short while later, Harry peers around the ajar door to Eloise's room and delights in finding her just waking up. "Hi, Sleeping Beauty! How are you feeling?", he coos.

"A bit woozy, a bit numb, totally overwhelmed and like my heart's just grown two sizes", she smiles softly, rubbing her eyes.

Grinning wider as he steps into the room, he carefully tows a smaller portable incubator. "Well, this is lucky timing, because someone wanted to come for a spin, desperate to see his mummy!". 

She responds with a pained gasp, already trying to shuffle up in bed, eyes eagerly locked on the tiny bundle in the blue blanket.

"Whoa, whoa, don't move! I'll help... Let me just find the brake". Giving up, he braces the incubator against the bed with his hip, then leans over to wrap his arms under and around her shoulders, gently easing her up a little. "Just relax; let me help", he tuts softly.

Robyn soon bustles into the room too, and unlatches the side of the incubator. "Open your shirt a little more Harry", she instructs. "Remember what I was saying about kangaroo care and the importance of skin-to-skin contact?".

She then patiently talks them through how to pick the baby up, mindful of all the areas to be extra cautious - the bandages keeping the cannulas in place on his tiny arms, the padding over the clip on his navel, and of course his delicate limbs and neck, and disproportionately heavy head (well, relatively speaking).

Eloise watches with bated breath; her heart bursting to see how gentle and cautious Harry is being, constantly asking Robyn questions for reassurance.

He's so small that Harry could scoop him up one-handed if he wasn't so nervous or the baby so delicate. But, as it happens, his hands have understandably never felt bigger or more clumsy.

"Your little lady is just being prepped and then I can collect her too", Robyn explains. "We'll need to keep her in the incubator for a while yet though, until her temperature climbs a little higher, but there's no reason she can't be in here with you for a while".

Harry locks eyes with Eloise, in awe at getting to cradle their son for the first time. Sitting carefully to perch on the bed alongside her, he holds him securely but gently. He's such a natural.

Robyn takes another photo, before talking Harry through transferring him carefully on to Eloise's chest, once she too loosens her hospital gown for the close contact. She then leans in to straighten his tiny blue knitted hat and socks, and draping his little white blanket over him to help keep him warm.

"Well he seems perfectly content!", she grins, looking between the three of them. "Right, if you're okay for a few minutes, I'll go back and fetch her for you?".

Gazes locked downward, they nod mutely, only gasping as he stirs and blinks his eyes slowly open. They're hazy and unfocused, and that indeterminate newborn colour... Dusky blue? Steely grey? Muddy green? Time will tell.

"Oh, my God, El! Just look at him...", Harry whispers.

"He's absolutely perfect", she boasts, totally enamoured, and stroking his back gently over the blanket.

"He's yours, of course he is!", he scoffs playfully.

"He's ours! Look what we did...", she cranes her neck to grin up at him, puckering her lips for a long-overdue kiss.

>

They're interrupted by a knock at the door. It's Dr. Jenkin's, wincing apologetically as she heads in to check on Eloise.

"Oh, look at that... He's just adorable!", she fusses over them, straightening his slightly too big hat. "I'll be clocking off soon, so is it okay if I give you a quick once over and update your chart, Eloise? It won't take long... But, Dad, would you mind taking him for a few minutes?".

"Not at all! Come here baby", Harry grins, more than ready for another cuddle.

He fusses a little, being separated from Eloise so soon, but relaxes into Harry's hold, high on his unbuttoned chest. Dropping delicate kisses to the top of his head, he paces back and forth in front of the window, jiggling him ever so gently to soothe him, singing under his breath. See, such a natural.

Just as the doctor finishes with Eloise, Robyn re-appears, wheeling their tiny daughter in. "Then there were four!", she sing-songs, beaming at them.

When Eloise reflexively tries to reach out for her, Dr. Jenkins puts a hand to her shoulder. "Nuh-uh, watch those stitches! Let him... I meant to ask, any idea on names?".

"We've got a few options, just haven't had the chance to make any final decisions yet". Eloise is entirely distracted, looking past her, to where Harry stands with Robyn and their precious cargo.

"Well I look forward to hearing, once you've made up your minds! Everything's good here, so I'll leave you be and check in on you in the morning". She signs off on her chart and waves goodbye, "Congratulations again!".

Harry, quickly becoming adept, moves around the bed and places their son back on Eloise's chest as Robyn latches the incubator to her bed. "Are you right-handed?", she double-checks. "Perfect, this will be easier then, and avoid you twisting or reaching".

She lets the side down and gives Eloise the nod.

Gently stroking her leg, tummy, arm, face and head, Eloise can't quite contain a sob. "So, so tiny...", she whispers, shaking her head in disbelief.

"She's feisty though!", Robyn grins, already having developed a soft spot for her.

A doubly-proud Harry snorts a laugh. "Sounds familiar!", he grins cheekily at Eloise.

>

Then they're alone, just the four of them, for the first time.

"I just can't believe they're here!".

Nestled sitting side by side on her hospital bed, they both gaze down in wonder at their son, in Harry's arms, and their daughter, lying alongside them.

It's the perfect opportunity to try to decide on their names.

"So, about Harriet...", he deadpans, before creasing into giggles as she swats gently at his thigh.

After some discussion, they narrow it down.

They say their names over and over again.

Both individually, and together - as a twinned pair.

First name only. First and last. First and middle. In full.

They playfully call them out - sweetly, sternly, crossly. Harry waggles a finger and lectures his tiny daughter she won't be able to date until she's thirty. He doesn't think it hurts to start practising that particular schpiel too early.

Staring at his babies, with his arm around his wife, Harry whispers their full names, sounding them out one last time, before silently, solemnly promising them his everything.

It's agreed... They're perfect.

>

They crane their heads up at another rap on the door, and are excited to find their eager, impatient family, trying their luck.

Crispin and Anne, Crispin, Elin and Ollie.

Des is self-isolating up in Manchester to err on the safe side, before heading down; and Gemma, now twenty-two weeks pregnant herself, needs to stay away from hospitals and any undue risks. 

Anne arrives with multiple bags. Their baby bag, which she'd grabbed from the house this morning too, just on a hunch - call it mothers' intuition.

And, whilst Eloise was in recovery and the twins being assessed in the NICU earlier this afternoon, she'd headed out to the nearby Mamas & Papas store, and raided their premature baby section for tiny romper suits, hats, booties and scratch mittens. She'd also stocked up on tiddly nappies and mini little feeding bottles too. She knows the hospital will provide everything they need for now, but figured the premature stuff has to be harder to come by, so took the opportunity to stock up. And it's all absolutely precious - she couldn't resist.

Their gazes lock on the new arrivals and they immediately start cooing and fawning - excited but suitably hushed, wary of the tiny ears.

"Oh, my God!".

"So tiny!".

"They're perfect!".

"They're so like you and Ollie were!". Even Elin gets misty-eyed.

Anne calls Gemma and Des via a WhatsApp video call; Crispin quickly gets Ben and Mer on FaceTime from LA, and Ollie patches in Lucas from Bath.

"Won't you introduce us? I'm dying to meet my newest grandbabies", Crispin begs.

Harry looks down at Eloise to double-check. "Are you sure? Definitely? Last chance...".

"Yes, absolutely! Go ahead", she beams up at him.

Grinning up at their family, all waiting with bated breath, he carefully tips forward to lay their son across his lap, to give them a better look at him. "This little champ is Dylan Robin Styles... Three pounds and nine ounces of absolute perfection".

Keeping his eyes on his mum's reaction, Harry has to pause and swallow thickly when he sees her drop her chin to her chest. Then, lifting her gaze as tears slip down her cheeks, she tugs at her lips in a familiar gesture whilst nodding repeatedly.

Reaching across Eloise's lap, he strokes their daughter's head before adding, "...And this tiny trouble-maker is Freya Stevie Styles... Only three pounds and three ounces, but also just perfect".

Beaming back up at them with shining eyes, he can barely contain his proud, moony smile.

Nudging his shoulder, with a beaming, if slightly exhausted, smile of her own, Eloise pipes up. "And, Dylan and Freya...", she coos, "Meet your family... They're all a bit bonkers, but simply the best!".

She chuckles as she looks up to see them all excitedly creeping forward, to crowd closer and coo over them all.

The Styles' - Harry, Eloise, Dylan and Freya.

>

They had agreed on 'Dylan' immediately. It had been one of their favourites all along and just seems to suit him perfectly. It's a nod to one of Harry's musical heroes - who, as it happens, wrote the love song Adele sang for their first dance.

When 'Rory' and the other unisex options felt a bit incongruous, given her tiny stature, and realising that if they went with 'Luna', she would inevitably become (yet another) 'Lu', it was Harry that suggested another option from the shortlist - 'Freya'.

It works well with 'Styles', and 'Dylan', and with their names too. And when Harry looked it up and saw that 'Freya was the Goddess of Love in Scandi mythology, he loved it even more.

So, there we have it.

Dylan and Freya.

Their two, perfect, little loves.

>

Just a few minutes later, Robyn returns. Surprised at the unanticipated guests, she's apologetic but needs to ready them to go back upstairs for the night.

As Harry carefully hands their son back to Eloise for a final cuddle, their family all suddenly remember to acknowledge Eloise and ask how she is, spouting apologies.

"Oh, I get it, believe me!", she sighs, staring down moonily at him, already totally besotted. 

Squeezing her hand, Harry leans down and kisses her soundly, also feeling overwhelmed with love.

Once Robyn lifts the baby back to his incubator, a still-teary Anne pounces and bends to wrap her arms around Harry and Eloise in a tight hug. She whispers heartfelt thank you's - for giving her grandchildren, and for honouring her beloved late husband so sweetly.

"Watch her, mum!", Harry can't help but fuss protectively, ushering her around to his side of the bed instead.

The others follow suit, offering gentle hugs and kisses and congratulations before they head home.

It's time to let an exhausted Eloise and Harry settle down for the night after a long, and most incredibly unexpected, and truly momentous day. 

A/N: As mentioned before, I've done a lot of research, but haven't experienced this myself... So if you have and spot any glaring errors, please send me a message and enlighten me!


	4. Part D

A/N 1: Here it is, the very last chapter... I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Xx

A/N 2: Trigger warning - this chapter includes references to antenatal recovery and premature babies. If either are sensitive subjects for you, please just message me with any questions you might have before reading... For creative license, I have again taken some liberties with regards to Covid hospital visitation, but please, please ensure you adhere to the rules in your area... We need to beat this damn thing! 

1st October 2020

Simultaneously wired and overtired, Harry 'slept' on the narrow day bed in Eloise's private room. But, in reality, spent most of the night jumping up to check on her, overly attentive to every noise and movement. From fluffing her pillows to swapping out water bottles, he was also on hand when she needed to express more milk again in the early hours.

After everything she had given him today, it was certainly the very least he could do.

Once the night shift handed back over to the day shift, Dr. Jenkins returned on her morning rounds, bright and early.

Pleased with her progress, she removed her catheter and cleared her to be able to get out of bed. Effectively granting her freedom, within the hospital at least, she didn't exactly have to encourage her to get up and move around.

Despite her clutching on to Harry's arm, it's him that has to gently tug her back and remind her to slow her down. But he has no doubt as to where she's heading, and understands precisely why she's so intent.

>

Barely paying any heed to see the NICU now in daylight, Eloise's laser focus locks solely on the twins.

Robyn, back on duty again too, fusses over her, swapping out chairs to give her the best seat in the house. Literally; and the soft armchair on rockers feels heavenly on her aching, broken, miraculous body.

After updating them on the status of each baby and the notes from the night shift, Robyn extolls the virtues of skin-to-skin kangaroo care for aiding premature babies' development.

Holding a baby, dressed only in a nappy, directly against your bare skin - usually under a blanket or tucked into your clothing - keeps them warm and calm, and helps steady their heart rate and breathing. It also aids sleep and prepares them for breastfeeding, so they're big advocates at The Portland hospital - especially those on the know in the NICU.

Harry and Eloise can't attest to any of that just yet, but can certainly feel it working wonders for them; soothing their frazzled nerves at the very first touch.

Suddenly feeling a jolt of nerves, she makes Harry go first, but drinks in the sight of him carefully cradling tiny Dylan to his chest, tucked into his unbuttoned shirt with a blanket over the top to keep him warm.

She only manages to tear her eyes from her boys, when one of the nurses finishes attending to Freya.

Then, she's up like a shot, standing alongside the incubator to gently run her warm palms over the crown of her head and her tummy.

She's unbelievably mini, and Eloise gets despondent and a little upset, struggling to envisage how she'll ever grow strong enough to make it out of the incubator, let alone off the ward.

Pinned down under Dylan, Harry signals to Robyn, who soon folds Eloise into her arms and offers some reassurance. "You want to know the most important thing for her development? It's you. Your milk, and your touch - both of you... That's almost all she needs. The rest is largely caution and monitoring. I know it looks so scary, Eloise, but you have to trust your instincts... You are everything she and he could possibly need right now. Ask the nurses a million questions, but just watch the babies and get to know them. Your intuition is the most powerful tool we have in our arsenal, trust me".

>

After a brief sojourn to express some more milk, a lovely long cuddle lifts her spirits in no time. Having Dylan curled up on her chest is made all the more special, sat on Harry's lap, with his arms wrapped tightly around them.

He grins at catching the sight of Dylan wiggling ever so slightly, nuzzling at Eloise's bare chest. "Oop! Definitely a Styles lad!", he chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder to hide his smirk.

But he's a fraction too late and Robyn not only sees but hears him. "Just like daddy, huh?", she banters back, arching an eyebrow sassily.

"Oh, my God! Stop it, both of you!", Eloise scolds, blushing at them both.

Robyn peers down to check. "He is keen! Let him try to suckle so we can check out his reflex... Well, without any practice, how else is he supposed to figure it out?", she grins down at Eloise's look of surprise. "It will get more productive each time, but keeping at it is key... And it's great for bonding and forces you to sit back and take things slow". She raises a brow at Eloise this time, secretly loving that they'll keep her on her toes.

Many of the reflexes to coordinate the sucking, swallowing and breathing needed for feeding may not be fully developed until thirty-four weeks.

Robyn explains they can help develop the babies' feeding reflexes by letting them practice suckling at her breast (or Harry's little finger) whilst they're fed by their nasogastric tubes. From there, they'll then work to progress them to syringe and then cup feeding before they attempt fully breastfeeding.

"Ready?", she grins encouragingly.

Eloise tugs down the neck of her gown and blushes slightly as she lifts Dylan a little to let Harry pull it lower.

When Dylan mewls and roots more, Robyn steps closer, coaching. "You can help him by angling him over a bit... Support his back and bottom in the crook of your arm. Perfect, just like that... Your nipples will be super sensitive. Just a touch and it will pebble to help him latch... Oh, there it is! Beading's normal, the smell of the milk helps guide him in... See there, that's it! You're both naturals".

He's only suckling and mouthing weakly, but it's a weird sensation. Tickly and tingly, but something warming and magical. But, totally overcome, her heart is thumping so hard, she's not quite sure what she's feeling where, to be honest. The thought of getting to feed them both at the same time feels elusive - a way off yet, for sure, but definitely a motivational milestone for her to look forward to.

Eloise can't begin to describe the bond she already feels for the babies; suffice to say that it seems akin to a gravitational pull, and she's utterly powerless to it. Kind of like her love for Harry, appropriately enough.

She can barely peel her eyes off Dylan, but Harry leaning in to press a kiss to his head has her casting her gaze higher. Her eyes widen at the tears tracking down his cheeks, but she shouldn't have been surprised; the big softy.

"I figured that might make me feel more torn, but it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen", he whispers, totally in awe of her all over again. Two guesses as to where his lips end up next.

>  
>

4th October 2020

There has been a lot to try to get their heads around.

Harry stayed overnight for the first couple of nights, arguing he should be on hand to help with such premature twins.

But, then driving between Hampstead and the hospital in Marylebone, there was a fair bit of coming and going.

Despite all the rabid media speculation over the summer, it ended up being an Instagram post from a fan that broke the Internet a bit. Just happening to be in the right place at the right time, she snapped Harry heading into The Portland alone, with a couple of holdalls full of things for Eloise and the babies. The sign above the door designating it a Maternity hospital made it fairly telling.

Paps immediately stationed themselves across the street, desperate for further sightings and hoping in vain for any information. But another shot of him, this time with Anne, outside the hospital the next day was enough to fully ignite the rumour mill and fuel a whole host of wildly speculative stories.

True to form, Harry ignored their shouts and eager questioning each time he ran the gauntlet, so, for now, everyone's confused about the timeline and still unaware of them having had twins.

Under mounting pressure, and with his fans having a collective meltdown, he'd had to Tweet, albeit vaguely. 'Thanks for the support, as always. All doing well .x'.

They hadn't planned to officially announce anything, but certainly not until both babies are safely settled at home.

Ironically, the paps were also harassing him about the Bond rumours that had randomly flooded the press out of no where. Well, certainly not from his team, anyway.

That was the only thing he did clear up, but again, vaguely. "Bond?! Not me!", he shook his head with a scoff.

'Wrong Styles, mate!', he smirked to himself on the way backupstairs, bursting with pride for his bonafide superstar.

>

The NICU is hard.

A lot of the time, it's impossible not to feel powerless, or useless, or like they're just getting in the way and annoying the nurses.

To have to endure such a stressful, difficult and alien experience, whilst your body is already a mess of hormones and emotions and pain, is a lot.

Eloise had been uncomfortable for the first few days, but, fuelled by adrenaline and an emotional high unlike anything she's ever experienced, intent on not missing a thing, she bravely soldiered on.

But, frustratingly, has still needed help getting in and out of bed and the shower and even the toilet. Getting dressed has proved a nightmare too.

Harry has had to watch her like a hawk and keep reminding her to slow down, and accept any and all help, if only to heal faster. "You're already Wonder Woman in my eyes! You don't have to prove anything".

>

But by Sunday - day four - it all proves a bit too much.

Beyond her incision, she has other physical woes to contend with too.

Afterbirth pains have her contending with shocking cramps and a deep ache as her uterus continues contacting.

Her breasts engorge as her milk comes in, leaving her tender and sore and feeling more than a little like Dolly Parton. Going multiple rounds with the electric pump each day leaves her wincing and weepy.

She gets cold again. Really cold; almost enough to long for that furnace-like bump in the August heatwave. Her body must hear her because she then gets random hot flushes too. The contrast feels dizzying and cruelly zaps her of what's left of her energy.

Unhelpfully, day fucking four also randomly steals her appetite, too. Which makes needing to scarf enough calories to produce enough milk for two premies feel like an impossible chore.

The wild emotional and hormonal rollercoaster she'd been riding since the birth, seems to suddenly come off its tracks, as her oestrogen, progesterone, prolactin, and oxytocin levels bottom out. Suddenly dropping back to pre-pregnancy levels, it leaves her feeling really out of sorts. Surfing waves of elation, sadness, and anxiety, she randomly bursts into tears a few times too.

Unsure if she's more alarmed at the reassurances that it's all normal, she can't help but wonder how on earth female bodies have evolved enough to create the miracle of life, but not yet managed to make the aftermath a little more easy going? At this point, she can't imagine anyone willingly going through any of it all over again.

Dr. Jenkins and Robyn try to reassure her as much as possible, but it's an attentive Harry that gets her through it; watching, listening, anticipating. He intuitively knows when to give her space and leave her be, and when to fight to pull her out of it and out of herself. Similarly, he knows when to be soft and soppy and loving with her, and just when to inject a little humour and levity to keep her on her toes.

Sympathetic to her having felt out of it and of sorts all day, after waiting patiently whilst she took forever to force down some dinner, he commandeered a wheelchair and took her upstairs for a much needed and long overdue visit.

With both babies already settled in their incubators for the night, it proves more than enough for her to curl up on Harry's lap as he rocks her gently to sleep, singing softly in her ear.

With a swift u-turn, Robyn thinks better of it than to tell him that visiting hours are over.

>  
>

6th October 2020

All things considered, Eloise rallied impressively yesterday.

Now a week old, the babies officially passed the thirty-two week mark. Being deemed 'moderately preterm' thankfully means they have less chance of developing life-threatening complications, and a better survival rate.

With her still needing to rest and express milk frequently, Harry spent a fair bit of his time shuffling Eloise between the NICU and her private room.

But they spend absolutely as much time as possible upstairs with the babies. Watching the nurses and listening attentively, they enjoy each precious cuddle for as long as they can - with Dylan and then Freya too.

Touching, looking, smelling, talking and singing, all their time actively bonding with the babies only helps stoke their intuition too.

>

Harry was more surprised than anyone when Dr. Jenkins discharged Eloise this afternoon - day six.

With the call only made relatively late, they had just a couple of hours to pack and panic and ask a million questions.

Eloise had certainly never given her number out with quite such reckless abandon before.

Harry has experienced the wrenching heartache of having to say goodbye and leave the twins for a few nights now. But Eloise's brutal flood of remorseful tears, sobbing all the way down in lift to the underground car park, have him in almost the same state - much like his first time too.

He doesn't have the heart to tell her it doesn't seem to get much easier.

The sense of having abandoned them and the constant anxiety that something might happen without them being there or even to their knowledge, feels oppressive and almost crippling, and leaves them feeling somehow both numb and wired at the same time.

She weeps and sobs and sniffles for the entirety of that fourteen minute drive home.

And will surely continue to do, each and every night, until they finally get to bring them home with them.

>

Feeling glum and emotionally drained, they both still and stare mutely up at the front door of their dream family home.

After he dashes around the car to help her down, as soon as Eloise steps through the front door, she spins around and burrows into Harry's chest, bursting into fresh tears. "They should be with us, this feels so wrong", she whimpers.

He eyes his mum, looking on worriedly from the kitchen door.

"Oh, I know... But it's temporary, okay? We'll get to bring them home soon", he promises.

Eloise wipes frustratedly at her tears. "I know! I know they're in the best hands, and I'm being irrational, but how does this not feel like home because they're not here? They've never been here!".

"They have... For seven months", he runs a knuckle up the side of her waist.

She crumples again. "God, I'm sorry, I'm a mess! I swear I can literally feel hormones surging around my body. I can't even tell if it's my heart aching or my boobs", she grimaces and cups her chest. "Oh, God, yeah, definitely them too", she winces.

"It's been a long day... Hell, a long week", he rubs at her arm, pressing kisses to her forehead. "Come on, let's get you up to bed... Just let me just grab the bags and lock the car, okay?", he steps back outside. "But wait for me, don't do the stairs alone", he calls in warning over his shoulder.

Seeing her shoulders slump, Anne pulls Eloise in for a snuffly hug, successfully distracting her with questions about Dylan and Freya's positive progress that afternoon.

>

Soon settled in bed, Eloise winces as Harry helps ease her back to lay down. Lifting her head up she chuckles wetly, "Hey, I can see that TV again!".

He settles carefully alongside her and pulls her gently into his arms. But she yelps as she rolls into his firm chest, rolling back and cupping her boobs. "Fuck, feel that...", she groans. They're rock hard and feel like they're about to explode.

"Oh, my poor baby", he frowns, hating to see her so uncomfortable. "Let me go and find the bag with the pump... I'll be right back".

"Wow...", she calls out as he heads for the stairs. "I'm not sure these four walls are ready for that sexy kind of talk!".

>  
>

14th October 2020

After another early start in Hampstead, they arrive back at the NICU once again; promptly on time for the start of the shift changeover rounds.

They've struck up an empathetic rapport with the other parents. A few visit babies daily, like them, while others are still admitted here themselves.

On the ward, their attention is firmly on their own baby or babies, and, barring the constant low hum and bleeping from all the machines, conversation around the different incubators always remains respectfully hushed. But they all sensitively keep tabs too, to know when to provide space, support or levity in the public areas and facilities.

It's an incredibly tough and emotionally draining environment.

Every time an alarm sounds and disrupts the hallowed calm, panic has their hearts skipping a beat. But it's impossible not to then surreptitiously cast their eyes around; sympathetic, but so relieved that it's not one of theirs, this time.

Even when things are going well, they're always conscious that someone else could be facing the unimaginable.

They're still reeling from the realisation, just a few days before, that the baby boy from the unexpectedly empty incubator in the other corner hadn't just been discharged early. He'd been making steady progress too, so the shocking news hit Harry and Eloise doubly hard.

All they can do is appreciate the fragility of new life, focus on the positives, and do everything in their power to get their two home as soon and safely as possible.

Once they no longer need the intensive care of the NICU, the babies will move to the Special Care baby unit. 

Dylan is probably ready to make the move, but as they have space, they're keeping him with Freya until she's ready too.

It will only be once they can breathe entirely on their own, maintain stable body temperature, gain weight steadily, feed properly and pass an extensive list of tests and checks, that they can be discharged and finally taken home. Which, in itself, is a terrifyingly daunting but exciting prospect.

All they can do is take it day by day.

>

And today is looking like it will be a good one.

Robyn's positivity and enthusiasm prove infectious as she bustles them in.

The babies have been responding to Harry and Eloise more and more, and they can't help but coo over their adorable reactions as they greet them good morning. Little wriggles and kicks, soft grunts, slow blinks; they'll take it all.

After giving them a run down on how both babies have been through the night (well, again - they always call the ward for an update first thing), Robyn spins back to face them. "Right", she rubs her hands together before giving them jazz hands, gesturing between the incubators. "Who's having who this morning?".

"What was it yesterday?", Harry turns to El, drawing a blank. "Did you have Dilly in the afternoon?".

"No, that was Monday, I think? I'm sure I had Frill-?".

They can't quite recall why they agonised over their names for so long, when sweet, silly nicknames inevitably stuck after just a few days... Dilly and Frilly. And, when his cheeky little personality shines through, he sometimes gets Pickle too; fittingly enough.

Looking between them, Robyn just grins. She can't help but get attached to the parents of babies in her care, but she's become particularly fond of these two. They're tired and a little overwhelmed still, but trying so hard. And, truth be told, she has no clue either as days have a way of merging together in the ward, but they always swap during the course of the day, so it doesn't matter much.

>

After helping bathe, change and dress each baby - still with the nurses' assistance, but both getting more confident by the day - they eventually settle into the adjacent soft rocking chairs in their quiet corner.

"He's getting the right idea!", Robyn nods her head at Dylan's rooting.

"Well, not quite!", Harry snorts a laugh, peering down at where he's nuzzling against the skin of his chest - shirt unbuttoned low for the skin-to-skin contact.

"Oh, you can't exactly blame him!", Eloise can help giggle. "It must be your rippling pecs confusing him!".

Robyn can't resist joining in, rolling her eyes sassily. "If only male nipples served a function, eh? It would help out with night feeds, let me tell you!".

"You're telling me! He's got four, I'd be obsolete!", Eloise sniggers, trying to avoid jostling Freya, where she lies snuggled up in her favourite spot, perched high on her chest and tucked under her chin.

"Hey!", he whines, before cooing to a snoozing Dylan. "Wake up, baby! They're ganging up on Daddy already".

The smirk falls promptly from her face. Scrunching her nose at him instead, she shifts surreptitiously in her seat. Bastard; he knows exactly the effect him saying that has on her.

>

Robyn scoots back over on a little rolling stool with some supplies in her hands - syringes without needles, a bottle of expressed breastmilk and muslins.

Having had their feeding tubes removed first thing, it's a big day today. And their latching reflexes had improved thanks to their perseverance of encouraging them to suckle whilst being tube fed, so they're feeling quietly optimistic.

"How do you feel?", she asks Eloise. "Keen to give it a go right off the bat, or try with the syringe first?".

"Oh, I'm definitely game!", she grins, so excited for this. Looking between the babies she adds, "But maybe him first? If he's keen? She's pretty quiet and content right now".

"Good girl! And definitely wise to try him first", she encourages her, earning a relieved smile. "Harry, you jump up and lay Dylan across her thighs before taking Freya, please".

After a little manoeuvring, she's ready. Harry sits alongside her, watching eagerly, whilst unconsciously peppering kisses against Freya's wispy blonde hair.

Robyn scoots around to Eloise's side. "Remember, some discomfort is okay, but it shouldn't hurt... And keep in mind what I've said about the angle of the latch and that scooping movement".

She'll get plenty of practise in no time. Premies need feeing small volumes of milk every hour or so. With twins, that's relentless. Juggling expressing and then suckling, Eloise was already starting to feel like a dairy cow. And, Christ, her poor, poor nipples.

On the plus side, she has at least lost just about any last vestiges of modesty by this point. Tugging down her tank top and unhooking one cup of her nursing bra, she settles Dylan on his side, grasping the back of his neck for support and guiding him closer.

Naturally, he roots around, but needs a little help to actually get further. "Rub your nipple or finger on his lower lip to tease it open... He'll find it eventually".

Eloise can't help but cut her eyes to Harry and has to bite her lips to keep from blurting something inappropriate.

"Jesus, you two!", Robyn chastises, totally on to them, and leaving them both blushing and smirking at the same time.

But nothing else happens. She can feel Dylan's mouth on her, and see a few beads of milk pooling at the corner of his mouth, but that's it. Then, just as she opens her mouth to ask Robyn, she gasps as his tiny mouth gets to work. Wincing and grimacing, she feels the milk come through, tickling her throbbing breast.

He manages just a few sucks before his mouth goes lax, dribbling at the corner of his pursed tiny lips.

Attentively, Harry leans forward and swipes it with a muslin cloth.

As Eloise hisses at a sting of pain, Robyn frowns. "I suggest you unlatch and start again... He'll grumble, but it'll be worthwhile. Gently wedge your pinky into the corner of his mouth or under his lip to break the suction".

After his indignant little bleat of dismay at being separated, it's a happier experience for them both, second time around.

Eloise can't take her eyes off him; stroking his head gently, she's so aware of him. The relative weight in her arms, the warmth of his skin, the lapping of his tongue and pursing of his mouth. The greedy little grunts and mewls melt her heart.

But he's evidently all talk, and his tiny jaw goes lax after just a couple of minutes.

Harry, watching attentively, shuffles in his seat to get a better look. "Milk drunk, already?", he coos, before rolling his eyes sassily, earning a swat from a muslin from Robyn.

"It's the good stuff, you can't blame him! Leave him there, Eloise, and he'll come right back to it, I promise you". Stepping closer, she peers down and him. Knowingly dropping a gentle finger to stroke his cheek, he soon rouses and starts suckling again.

>

"Are you game?", she grins, gesturing to Eloise's free arm. "Let's see how good of a juggler you'll be, shall we?".

Eloise giggles, "Probably not as good as this one!", she nods towards Harry. Literally.

Standing up, he carefully hands over Freya and helps get her in position before crouching at Eloise's side, planting a hand for balance on her thigh as he watches on, totally transfixed.

Needing to let them each feed for as long as they want each time, it can easily clock up to over four hours actively feeding, for each baby, every day. Successfully doubling up has to be her endgame here; she's determined.

Eloise gasps again as Dylan rouses and starts suckling greedily again, causing his sister to start rooting too.

"Ah, don't want to be left behind by your brother, huh?", Robyn coos down at her.

Smaller and a little weaker, Freya needs a little more help. But Eloise doesn't dare let go of holding them both securely, so gratefully accepts Robyn lending a hand.

But with her jaw soon going lax as well, she too drifts off to sleep after just a minute. Aww.

Harry cuts his wide, watery eyes from Dylan, to Freya, to Eloise, in awe. His whole world, in her crossed arms, each hand protectively cupping and stroking a little head. "Look at you, everything they need...", he coos.

To manage to successfully feed them both, at the same time, without much help, feels like such progress, even if neither managed to take much milk yet.

Appropriately, they're all for the baby steps these days.

Harry can't resist taking a photo of his own. It might just be one of his very favourite smiles to ever grace her face. Proud, and content, and practically shining with a mother's love. Its a double dose, after all.

>  
>

16th October 2020

Harry gets called off paternity leave sooner than anticipated.

He'd been holding off filming a performance - to be streamed for the iHeartRadio's Jingle Bell Ball on the 10th of December - until Mitch and Sarah were due back in London.

But then the babies came. And then lockdown measures tightened again.

As a result, and having taken it relatively to the wire, as these things go, he has to make do in London.

At short notice, and without Mitch, Sarah or Naomi in the country, and, not to mention, the small issue of a global pandemic to contend with, he has to cobble together a plan with Tom, with Jeff chipping in remotely from LA too.

Via his record label, he borrows the Free Nationals band from Anderson Paak, finds an incredible trumpet player and some backing singers too, and decides to make use of their own beautiful garden.

Creative as she is, Anne lends a hand to devise a backdrop, and ends up dressing one of Harry's more outlandish impulsive lockdown buys with bunting and festoon lights.

A vintage silver AirStream trailer isn't something you see often in the UK, and, having always loved them, he'd snapped it up, intending to convert it into a cool outdoor bar for the garden.

>

Feeling guilty, he kissed Eloise goodbye as she left for the hospital that morning, then hung back, nervously keeping tabs on the drizzly rain whilst awaiting the arrival of Tom, and the team from Ben's production company.

With negative Covid tests and NDA's signed, all the safety protocols and distancing measures enforced, and necessarily strict instructions for everyone else stay out of the house, they kicked off rehearsals as soon as his stand-in musicians arrived.

However, bad news came later in the morning, when it was revealed that the delayed backing singers passed their tests, but learned they had unwittingly come into contact with someone with the virus, and need to self-isolate.

Harry didn't consider taking the risk for even a second. This is their home; and safeguarding themselves, for continued access to the twins in hospital, has to be their top priority.

He'd committed to perform three songs, and the band have learnt Adore You, Golden and Watermelon Sugar.

But all three tracks require backing vocals, and they need to start filming soon or else they'll lose the light and the improved weather.

Bollocks.

>

Harry sits slumped at the kitchen table, desperately trying to figure a passable solution with Tom, when the front door slams shut. "I'm back!".

Distracted, he automatically calls back "Hey, babe!", mid-sentence about using isolated backing vocals from the album. He hates singing alongside anything pre-recorded, but needs must.

"I'll be right down, just give me ten minutes", she hollers, heading straight upstairs.

Harry's delayed realisation comes with a comical double-take and wide, questioning eyes. "Wait, El!", he jumps up and runs to the hall. "What are you doing back? Is everything okay?", he calls up after her.

"Yeah, all good!", she shouts back, already in their bedroom. Stepping back out on to the landing, she leans over the bannister to smile down at him. "I just need to throw on some slap and get some spit-up out of my hair, but I'll be quick, I promise".

"Wait, what?". But she's already gone.

Heading back into the kitchen, his mum catches his eye.

Just spotting her smirk over the rim of her cup of tea, he gasps. "Mum! You didn't?!", he rounds on her, accusingly.

"I spoke to her earlier, and when she asked how you were getting on, I may have happened to explain the predicament...". She cuts him off before he can protest. "And she offered! I didn't ask or put any pressure on her, I promise", she holds her hands up defensively. "You need female backing vocals and we both sure as hell know it couldn't have been me!", she laughs.

>

Then, outside with everyone else, a now-dressed Harry sits at the patio table, being attended to by masked hair and make-up artists, when Eloise slides open the door and peeks her head out, casting a quick look around before stepping surreptitiously outside.

"Babe, I-", Harry leans back from the hands in his face.

Eloise cuts him off this time. "...Urgently need a singer but over-looked the one who actually lives here? I'm wounded!", she sasses.

"Yeah, literally..." he deadpans. "You're on maternity leave and are supposed to be taking it easy!".

It's her turn to smirk. "It's three songs and, what, an hour tops, including rehearsal time? This isn't exactly manual labour, H!".

"But what about your incision?".

"I wasn't planning on singing that hard!". Coming to stand right in front of him, she plants her hands on his broad shoulders. "It's fine. I'm fine. The babies are fine. And Robyn has our and your mum's numbers in case anything happens... Don't over think this", she shrugs with a knowing smile.

"Not the first time you've struggled to see the obvious answer from under the end of your nose, you know?", Anne rolls her eyes fondly, chipping in from across the table.

"But-", Harry splutters.

"But what?", Eloise smiles indulgently.

"You've not wanted to appear in anything alongside me before... And I know you won't want the scrutiny or exposure-".

"You're in a jam... I can sing backing vocals. And I know the songs inside out - you literally wrote them about me! The cameras will be trained on you. And it's not live... This is the best and only ready solution for you to perform them as planned. So stop worrying and let me help, okay?".

After a brief, narrowed-eyed stand-off, he relents. "You're actually the best!".

"Oh, I know", she grins, flipping her hair playfully.

"I love you".

"Love you more".

"Impossible!".

"Meh!", she shrugs jokily before lifting her hands from his shoulders to his jaw and bending gingerly to give him a kiss.

She literally feels him relent and relax against her and into the kiss.

"Does this look okay?", she steps back and tugs at her simple off-the-shoulder black broderie cotton sundress, casting a look from him to Harry Lambert.

Lifting one hand to palm her hip, Harry tugs at the ends of her slightly damp long blonde waves. "You look gorgeous... But do you feel comfortable? Wear whatever you want".

The colour and loose smock shape feel forgiving and her (his) slouchy printed shirt obscures the straps of her bra - there's no way in hell she's willing to contend with a strapless one right now.

>

After he introduces her to the band, keeping a safe distance, they all warm up and run through the songs once, then again with the cameras rolling.

Eloise is positioned at the far side of the Air Stream, as safe as possible a distance away from the band and crew. Being perched on one of the bar stools from the kitchen island should help keep her post-baby body under wraps to avoid any unfair scrutiny.

Anne stays in both of their eye lines, with all their phones laid out at the ready on the table in front of her. But seeing her relaxed and happily singing along and dancing in her seat is all the reassurance they both need to let loose and enjoy it.

>

Despite the latent, disconcerting feeling of cheating on his own band, and with a palpable sense of relief after their panicky afternoon, Harry quickly relaxes into it.

The band are amazing, and the trumpeter is insanely good.

Eloise resists the temptation to sing along with Harry, and instead focuses on the girls' isolated backing vocals, playing discretely in her ear.

With her nailing Sarah's tone, Harry could almost forget it's Eloise behind him, but he keeps catching sight of her as he dances, shimmies and spins. He's loving it.

God, it feels so good to perform again. And it's all the more special to have Eloise alongside him as he belts out songs about her in their beautiful garden at their dream family home.

In a blue shirt and grey checked jacket with brown trousers, and with the bunting dancing in the breeze, and the AirSteam aglow in the golden hour before the sun sets in a remarkably cleared sky, it looks great too.

The whole vibe is irresistibly, undeniably dreamy, cool and easy.

Still bopping his head and shimmying around to the irresistible groove, Harry addresses the camera after Adore You. "Hello! I'm Harry... Thank you for having us. Thank you to iHeart... I just want to say happy holidays to everyone at home. I hope you've been staying safe, and managed to make the best out of a rough year... I want to say thank you to the Free Nationals, Mr. Maurice Brown, Tom, and a certain Mrs. Styles, for all stepping in and playing with me today...". He spins around and grins over his shoulder at her before introducing Golden.

>

Despite the acoustics outside, his voice sounds incredible - warm, rich and certainly well-rested. And his and Eloise's harmonies compliment each other beautifully too.

Tom lends a little depth, singing some backing vocals too, from his spot at the soundboard, largely out of frame.

In tribute, Harry couldn't resist singing the "n-o oh-ohh's" and "wh-oa oh-ooh's" Eloise always ad-libs when singing along to the album.

After his sweet goodbye message and then nailing his final "Watermelon Sugar", Harry spins and claps the band as he saunters straight over to Eloise, sweeping her off the stool and into his arms; spinning in a circle with her long blonde hair fanning out around them.

"That was amazing, H!", she grins.

"You were amazing... That felt so good!".

"Don't get used to it", she waggles a finger.

Once the director calls cut, Harry pauses briefly to watch some of the footage back, before saying his "Thank you's" and "Goodbye's", following Eloise straight back inside.

After quick, hot showers, they return to the hospital to sit and cuddle with Dylan and Freya until the end of visiting hours.

It's a good day. A really good day.

>  
>

20th October 2020

But they're not all great days. And, sometimes, not even good days.

Repeating the same journey, day after day, first thing in the morning and late at night, for long days at the hospital has both of them feeling a sense of Groundhog Day.

With her anaemia, bleeding heavily for two weeks after the birth was no joke, and left her feeling weary with exhaustion. Having to express or breastfeed throughout the day and night, hasn't helped. And nor had feeling perpetually on edge, in a constant state of worry about the babies.

It hadn't all been smooth sailing for them either.

Both developed jaundice; relatively mildly, but enough to turn a slightly alarming yellow hue, and needed to spend time under phototherapy treatment lamps, with protective goggles to help protect their delicate eyes.

And Freya stopped feeding properly for a very anxious couple of days, which hindered her weight gain again.

It was fraught and stressful and left them feeling more powerless and out of control than ever; awkwardly trying to keep out from under the nurses' feet, but unable to keep away.

But all they can do is take it day by day. They remind themselves, and each other, daily. And when they both waver, Anne and Robyn are on hand to remind them both and dole out pep talks.

>

They celebrated each of the little wins and proverbial baby steps, of course.

But spending all day, every day, with the twins, it was hard to appreciate the rate of development. In looking back at photos, even just from a few days before, they'd always be shocked at quite how much they'd already changed.

So moving along wards and floors felt incredible - to experience actual, tangible progress, and physically edge closer to the door home.

Eventually transferring from the NICU to the Special Care unit felt momentous. Moving from incubators, into hot cots and then normal cots, made them seem increasingly like normal newborns.

The nursery ward felt like the final frontier. A half-way house to getting them home, and largely just to check all their levels remained stable, it allowed Eloise and Harry precious more autonomy.

>

Dylan made it there late last week.

Still technically six weeks from his due date, he looks comically small next to the comparatively beefy newborns in the cots either side of his.

His heart rate, breathing, temperature, blood sugar and weight gain have all been consistently stable, but it takes Harry and Eloise entirely by surprise when Robyn announces that he's ready for discharge. He can go home.

They are absolutely delighted, of course, but it's bittersweet.

Freya isn't quite ready, and still in the Special Care unit.

She's doing well, all things considered, but after her recent issues feeding, her weight still hasn't quite stabilised and her temperature is still prone to the odd wobble.

It has been hard enough for Harry and Eloise to just see the twins separated in different wards for a few days. But, with the hospital only getting busier and in need of space on the wards, they accept it. They have to.

But it doesn't make it any easier.

>

It should feel right up there, as rites of passage go. Choosing your baby's going home outfit, and packing his things, whilst all the adoring staff queue up to say goodbye. Wrangling with the new car seat, signing the discharge forms, and ceremoniously cutting off the hospital ID tag.

But it's agonising when doing that for one baby means leaving the other behind.

After dragging her heels with a long feed and an even longer quiet cuddle afterwards, Eloise eventually hands Freya to Harry before she's pulled into Robyn's arms. "I know this is wretched, but I'll keep an extra close eye on her, I promise. In just a few days, or maybe a week, tops, these will be the happiest tears".

>

Weepy tears had been spilling for almost an hour now. And the risk of dehydration is no joke when you're feeding newborn twins.

After battling with the car seat, and then a notably slow and cautious drive home, Eloise braced herself for a fresh wave as they approached the front door.

But, somehow, the new house finally felt like home.

>

As much as Eloise and Harry find leaving Freya each night excruciating, they'd admit that getting to grips with just one baby at home first is helpful, crucial practice.

Anne has been a godsend too; giving them space and time to figure things out for themselves, but miraculously always around when they needed a hand, or felt unsure or overwhelmed.

And when Eloise is up in the middle of the night, feeding Dylan and expressing for Freya and feeling all the more guilty about her being she's alone, she FaceTimes Mer, Rosie or Adele in LA. Her mum had surprised her too, checking in and sharing a few twin tricks.

Never having felt more grateful for all the amazing women in her life, Eloise is so appreciative of all their support and advice.

She just needs to take it day by day.

>  
>

26th November 2020

All four of them finally made it home, all together, after four weeks, just before Halloween.

They'll inevitably need to get some help in the form of a full-time nanny or two once they're both working normally again, but, for now, they've been intent on being entirely hands-on and making the most of all their precious time together.

But it's been an adjustment, for sure.

And, more often than not, it's really hard.

Caring for premature, newborn twins is an all-consuming, around-the-clock job, after all.

Some days and nights, Dylan and Freya are too in sync, demanding all their attention, all at once, for everything, at the same time. It feels like there just aren't enough hands to keep up with everything - even with Anne helping out too.

But, at other times, the babies seem to be on wildly opposing schedules; regardless of how closely they try to keep them to a routine. As soon as they get one down, the other will start up.

Whichever kind of day it is, and even when they achieve a happier medium, they rarely stop or sit down. And they certainly don't manage to get anything like enough sleep.

There are plenty of tears, and not just from the littlest Styles'.

>

The media and fans have been desperate for photos and information, but a second UK lockdown - announced mid-October and in effect from early November - had the Styles' laying low at home.

With infections rates and the death toll soaring terrifyingly, they did not mess around; adhering strictly to the rules, and then some... They just cannot take any risks. Not with two premature babies at home - technically still only at thirty-nine weeks gestation, with another eight days to go until their original due date.

While it has meant that so many family and friends had yet to meet the twins properly, it has given them crucial time to get to grips with their new charges. And - a silver lining if ever there was one - kept Anne with them, patiently showing them the ropes, lending support and bonding with her grand babies.

And besides, they've spent a fair bit of time proudly showing them off anyway, with FaceTime and Zoom calls aplenty.

It's Thanksgiving today, actually, and they have another call planned for later, to catch up with Jeff and Glenne, and Mitch and Sarah.

They have a lot to be thankful for. Even outside of their protective, blissful bubble at home, so much has been happening.

Harry released the Golden music video - extra special to them for having been shot, in part, around the grounds of the palazzo where they married.

And within the last two weeks, he has been named Variety's 'Hitmaker of the Year', won an Aria award, and even been nominated for three Grammy's. The enormity of that hasn't quite sunk in yet.

But then, even that was overshadowed by the unexpected noise around his US Vogue cover story being released. They had indeed held it back, to be able to add a post-script on the online article, congratulating them and adding 'father' to the many feathers now in Harry's cap.

>

With a narrow window of opportunity before the next lockdown is due to be announced, Anne finally headed back home to Holmes Chapel yesterday.

She'd been incredible. Always on hand to help and answer any questions, but never pushy or preachy, and gave them plenty of time and space to just be. Despite her inclination, she resisted mollycoddling them too much. They'll need to know how to juggle the babies and the house and daily life, before they can even begin to think about throwing work into the mix full time again - well, one day.

They're missing her already; but, after a successful hospital appointment earlier, with both babies progressing well and Eloise getting the all-clear, things are looking up. The sky is even clear and the sun shining.

Keen to make the most of it before winter really kicks in with a vengeance, they bundle up to head out for a gentle stroll on Hampstead Heath. It feels pretty amazing, after being cooped up for so long.

Decked out in wellies, jeans, warm jumpers, and beanies, they help each other into the complicated baby carriers and then carefully secure their precious cargo. She has Freya, he has Dylan.

Donning their sunglasses and coats, left open to be able to pull around the sides of the carriers, they head out the front door, hand in hand.

>

Having stopped for water at a cute little kiosk, when Eloise drops the cap from hers, with their precious cargo and all their layers, they both struggle to bend down for it. Harry also has the baby bag slung across his shoulders.

Giggling and laughing as he makes a play of slut dropping down, clinging on to her legs to ensure his balance, a cute little girl walks up to help.

She's only four or so, and holds a doll tightly in the crook of her arm. "Here you go!", she holds the cap out for him, lisping slightly.

"Oh, thank you!", Harry says softly. "That's very kind of you".

Eloise looks around, trying to spot the little girl's parents.

"I love babies...", she grins, stepping innocently closer to Harry, who's still crouched down.

"Well, these two are special, tiny babies... Look", he leans forward and adjusts Dylan's blanket to give her a quick peek.

"Where's your mummy or daddy, sweetie?", Eloise frets, before jumping when a man clears his throat alongside them.

They both can't help but stiffen a little, immediately clocking the professional camera hanging from his neck.

Popping quickly back up to his full height, Harry steps closer to Eloise and Freya.

"Ah, she's with me, sorry... Come on Cora, leave them in peace", he turns his daughter by the shoulders, to lead her away. "And congratulations!", he nods to the baby carriers with a smile.

Turning to leave, he then appears to hesitate. "I, umm, hate to have to ask... But, when it's been such a tough year-, would you mind if I get just one shot? I won't get their faces at all".

A polite, courteous man, out with his young family; who just happens to be a photographer?

Harry doesn't recognise him, but is willing to trust his gut instinct, that if he is a paparazzo, he would seem to be one of the few decent ones.

"Sounds closest to on our terms, babe?", he whispers as he turns to look at Eloise.

Eyeing the man and then his sweet young daughter, she nods, already stepping closer to rearrange the blankets and sheepskins in both carriers to ensure both babies are well covered.

Harry turns back to the man and points in the direction they'd just come from. "We'll be heading off that way in a minute or so", he explains, giving him a heads up so he can prep his shot.

With one hand spanning Dylan's back, cradling him protectively, Harry eyes the photographer as he fiddles with his camera.

"Cheers for this mate, really", the man swallows thickly, "This is really good of you". He drops a hand to the crown of his daughter's head, knowingly.

After all the speculation, the first photo of Harry and Eloise together for months, let alone with the twins, will definitely pull in his biggest pay packet ever.

Harry keeps holds his gaze, pointedly. "That's okay... But please give us until tonight to post something first? We haven't got around to it yet... We'd been intending to wait until after their due date next week".

"Of course, absolutely", he promises, eyes dropping in a double-take down to Dylan. Evidently still very small, even under all his layers, he's shocked just imagining how little they must have been.

They setting off hand-in-hand, and, cradling Freya's bottom protectively, Eloise leans over and drops a kiss to Dylan's head, burrowed snuggly against Harry's chest.

After just a minute, they quickly duck back through the trees into the woods, safely out of sight.

>

After hanging up from their Zoom call - on which, to allay everyone's disappointment at finding them empty handed, they'd been heckled into dutifully sneaking into the nursery to give them all a peek of the twins again - Harry and Eloise had been snuggling contentedly on the sofa in the living room, deep in conversation, when they're interrupted by a singular whimper from the baby monitor.

Gently wrestling and then unceremoniously upending her into the plush sofa, Harry then sprints upstairs.

>

Still lying contentedly where he left her, burrowed into the invitingly squishy cushions, Eloise smile, humming Harry's silly "Hey Dilly, Dilly..." ditty that she'd just overheard him singing softly in the nursery over the baby monitor.

She jumps in surprise when he suddenly sits down on the other end of the sofa.

Craning her neck, she then pops up on to an elbow and cocks her head to the side, eyeing him appraisingly.

"What?", he looks up, holding a fussing Dylan to his chest with one arm as he lays out his supplies alongside him with the other. Nappy, wipes, baby powder, nappy sack.

How he could have carried that one handed, she can't quite fathom... Nor, why he's down here at all, when this stuff all lives on the changing table in their nursery, where he'd just been?

Whilst running his fingers through the poppers along the legs of Dylan's sleep suit, Harry looks up and catches her still smirking at him. "Go on then-", he nods.

"What?".

"What, umm-, what was it you were saying before?", he asks in faux innocence.

They trade slight smirks, both knowing exactly what she'd been gushing about - her pride at all his incredible, mind-blowing achievements of late, even despite the distractions of a global pandemic and getting to grips with two newborns. It seems someone's in the mood to have his ego stroked; and she can't blame him one bit. He deserves all the kudos and more.

She shakes her head, bemused. "Why didn't you just change him upstairs?".

"She was starting to stir and I didn't want to risk waking her... And, besides, we can't have this monkey thinking it's okay to interrupt his Mummy, can we?", He babbles cutely, kissing him noisily to see that precious, gummy smile, before laying him down on his lap.

"You're ridiculous!", she scoffs.

"What?!", he gapes.

"Oh, alright then, Mr. Cocky! Go right ahead...", she snuggles back down, eyes drifting shut to teasingly deny Harry the attention he's evidently craving.

But then she whips her head back up, hearing his pained, strained gasp. Her eyes widen in horror as it reaches her.

By now, they're used to baby poo being an unexpectedly alarming shade of mustard yellow. They'd each dealt with their fair share of nappies in the last eight weeks, but it doesn't usually smell much. This definitely does.

Her eyes automatically lock on Dylan, in concern, but he's wriggling under Harry's anchoring palm, grunting quietly.

But, catching sight of the state of Harry's formerly black jogging bottoms, she too gasps in alarm. Scanning her eyes up his torso, she winces at the tell-tale smear of yellow on his white t-shirt.

She then promptly loses it.

His face is an absolute picture. The regret is real. Green eyes wide and cast down, surveying the horror, literally in his lap. Nose scrunched at the unaccustomed smell. And panic etched into his furrowed brow.

But it's the smear across his forehead that kills her. He'd so obviously run his hand through his hair.

She can only hang her head where she lies, now propped up on both elbows, jigging and shaking with silent laughter.

His "Holy shit!", has her braving another look.

Harry holds Dylan in outstretched hands. The formerly white sleep suit, rucked up around his neck, reveals at least half of the absolute horror show - smeared half way up his back and down past his knees. Gross.

His face is an absolute picture - gaping at his son in a mix of revulsion, panic, dismay and just a smidge (or should that be smudge?) of hysteria.

Cutting his wide green eyes to hers, he hisses, "What the actual fuck am I supposed to do with this?".

"Well, for starters, I'd get off the new, light grey sofa if I were you!", she just manages to blurt before creasing into hysterics again. Flipping on to her back, she slides off the sofa and literally rolls on the floor, laughing uncontrollably.

Jumping up, with Dylan cradled in his outstretched hands, Harry dashes back up the stairs, leaving her cackling - entirely at his expense, writhing on the floor, with tears streaming down her cheeks, and a hand protectively splayed over her fresh incision scar.

>

"Eurgh, it's the smelly boys!", she stage whispers to a feeding and entirely non-plussed Freya as they return downstairs, ten minutes later.

Smelling decidedly fresher, if a tad traumatised, Harry's giving Dylan the stink eye.

Biting her lip to try to keep from laughing again, she raises an eyebrow at their state of undress. Tellingly, both are now wrapped in just towels.

"Well, I had to get straight in the shower with him, didn't I? In our clothes and everything", he pouts.

At Eloise's snort, he sniggers too. It's a little haunted, but still. "Fucking hell, it was on his neck and even in his hair!".

Her eyes lift tellingly to his forehead.

"Yes, I know! And it was in my fucking hair too!". Shaking his head in dismay, he lays Dylan down on his lap again to redress him, and she's relieved to see he's already safely in a fresh nappy. "We're going to need to throw that sleep suit straight out... And maybe just redecorate that bathroom whilst we're at it".

"Oh, stop being dramatic!", she laughs.

"I'm not! That was harrowing!", he wails. Looking down at his lap again, he shakes his head in disbelief. How is it even possible that all of that, came from this now angelic bundle laying sleepily on his lap? "I think I might actually love him a teeny, tiny bit less after that".

She gasps, and lobs a cushion at his ankles. "Take that back!".

"I just had shit on my face and in my hair, Eloise!".

"You did well not to get any on the sofa, I'll give you that much!", she concedes, albeit with a smirk. "Well, Mr. Cocky, that was comedy gold! You're lucky I didn't have time to get a photo-".

"Oh, fine, sure, laugh now! You know it's only a matter of time until that happens to you... Anyway, here, take him", he stands up and steps closer. "Fill him back up with whatever in God's name you're feeding him, because there sure as hell can't be anything left in there".

>

Returning back downstairs again, now with his hair dried and dressed in a fresh pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, Harry drops a kiss to the crown of Eloise head as he settles close alongside her. "That didn't take long", he nods to the now fed and sleepy twins.

Once they each have a burped and snoozing baby in their arms, Harry leans closer as he shifts to wriggles his phone out of his pocket. "What do you say? Give it a go now while they're both milk drunk enough to play ball?", he whispers.

Fittingly, both babies seem as allergic to selfies as their parents evidently are.

But, needs must... Anne had taken a load of photos of them already whilst she'd been staying, but they all feel a little too personal to share like this.

After a little gentle manoeuvring, and a mild tangle of limbs, they're sorted.

Harry sits in the corner of the sofa, with Eloise perched sideways on his lap with her legs crossed, and Dylan laying in the crook of her left arm. Still a little wary of him, Harry holds Freya against his chest one handed, with his right outstretched, trying to find an angle that avoids revealing the babies faces, or Eloise's tummy (at her request), or too much of the house behind them.

It takes a few attempts.

>

One is perfect. Heads together, they're each looking down at the sleeping baby in the other's arms. Her spare hand wraps around his back, splayed across his ribs, to delicately stroke Freya's tiny foot.

Harry posts it to his main Instagram account, limiting the comments and captioning it: 'Feeling even more thankful than usual for a lot of things at the moment, but mostly for this... Styles: Party of four. Dylan and Freya, 30/09/2020 .xx'.

He then posts a different photo to his private account. Also taken earlier, both babies faces are on show and Eloise is looking up at the camera with a beaming smile as he stares at her moonily. Cheekily, he can't resist captioning this one: 'My whole world, in my arms: One MILF and two tiny angels. Ever thankful.xxx'. He triple-checks that it's from his private account.

As he scoops both babies up to take them up to their nursery for the night, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

"Quick, can you grab that please?", he whispers hurriedly, "Hurry, before it wakes them!".

After a quick but shameless grope whilst rummaging for it, she quickly silences his phone and takes it with her into the kitchen, intent on clearing up after dinner. And lunch, oops.

>

Once the twins are settled, Harry returns downstairs, rounding the corner to the kitchen to find Eloise tapping away on his phone, grinning to herself.

"You're doing it again...", he sing-songs, calling her out on her jigging - apparently entirely unable to stand still anymore, even without a baby to soothe.

Sidling up behind her, he palms at her hips, exaggerating their now-familiar looping figure of eight motion.

As she tries to wriggle away, he relents only to then wrap his arms tightly over her chest instead. Hooking his chin over her shoulder, he peers down at his phone screen.

"Oh, babe, did you log me out?", he whines. "I always forget that bloody password!".

But reading the caption of the post on her private Instagram soon has him smirking.

'Dylan & Freya 👼🏻👼🏻 Technically due next Friday... Time-keeping evidently inherited from the baby daddy!'. It's another photo from their little selfie spree earlier; the two of them looking at each other and laughing, with both babies blissfully unaware in their arms.

He won't see what she'd already just posted to her public account until the next morning.

A shot of him looking at the camera, notably teary-eyed, with her perched in his lap, gaze cast down at the twins. She'd couldn't resist posting it with a pointed question. 'But are tears of joy at your premature newborns not manly enough or too manly?'.

In their blissful bubble, and with far more important things to contend with, they'd ignored Candace Owen's attention-seeking prattle so far; but Eloise has just been biding her time, waiting for her opportunity to clap back and tell her to bore the fuck off.

>

"Well I like the sound of 'baby daddy'!", he can't help but smirk lasciviously.

Tossing his phone on to the marble island, she spins in his arms. "I'll bet you do!".

The sight of his bare chest stops her eye roll in it's tracks, and she can't help but smirk appreciatively. Lifting her hands to his hips, she rubs her thumbs over the cut of his obliques, raking her eyes none too subtly as she checks him out.

She can't help but scoff a laugh as his goofy shimmying and matching expression. "Oh, stop! It's a little early for dad dancing, isn't it?". At her cheek, he grabs her hands and pulls her closer, jostling her against his chest. "What are you doing?", she laughs.

He smoothly adjusts their stance, wrapping her hands behind his neck, before dropping his to her back. Very low down.

"I'm dancing... With my gorgeous wife... While our beautiful daughter and that little shit", - he yelps as she drops a hand to pinch his ribs - "sleep peacefully". He's quick to envelop her nimble fingers in his and rest them against his bare chest.

Well, she can't, and won't, argue with that. The making the most of them being asleep; not him calling her angelic, darling baby boy a 'little shit'.

"Hmm... What was that lyric about a "dance floor" again?", she taps her index finger against her chin, only to squeal as he enthusiastically leans down to unnecessarily refresh her memory.

>

Gazing down at her, he sings Adore You softly as he leads her around the kitchen.

The baby monitor in the pocket of his sweatpants might be a new addition, but sometimes it's the simple things... His wife, at home, at in his arms, slow dancing around their quiet kitchen.

Sighing contentedly as they come to a stop, his lips quirk and nose scrunches fondly as he fails to suppress a dimpled grin. As his eyes - a rich and blazing emerald green in the dimmed light of the kitchen - scan hers, he nods decisively.

"What?", she whispers, cocking her head.

"Today was a good day", he says softly, smiling moonily down at her.

"Even with another hospital appointment, more bloody Covid tests, a run in with a pap, and even the 'poonami'?", she raises an eyebrow.

"Yep", he pops the 'p', "Even with all that... I love you".

"I love you too", she grins back, eyes crinkling.

"So much".

"Mmm-hmm... Know what else I love-?", she whispers before gasping as he cuts her off, tugging on the end of her pony tail with the hand still splayed at her lower back.

Arching her neck, he leans down to kiss her soundly, but pauses. "Kiss me? I need-".

She rises on to the balls of her feet to be able plant her pouted lips to his in a playful kiss.

"What?", he whispers back, lips still against hers. "What else do you love?".

"That", she pulls back and lifts her gaze to the ceiling.

"What?", it's his turn to frown.

"...Sleeping babies", she smirks.

"Mmm-hmm, but also when they're awake though... Oh, and when you watch them wake up and they blink all slowly at you... Ooh, and those little smiles when-". She shifts in his arms as he babbles - baby fever in full flow. Stepping surreptitiously closer, she presses her thigh between his legs.

"Oh? ...Sleeping babies!", he cottons on, and belatedly buttons it. Pressing gently back, he kisses her deeply but briefly. "There's no rush, though! I was only joking about the MILF thing, El... You only just got the all-clear this morning-".

"H, it's been almost three months... I can barely think about anything else! And you parading around in grey sweatpants isn't helping much... You're a smoking hot baby daddy, you know?", she smirks, eyeing him hotly.

"Hmm, really?", he beams back, but then bites his lip, feeling unexpectedly bashful as he rakes his eyes over her, drinking her in.

"Oh, umm, unless you don't-", she misreads his appraising gaze, turning timid.

He cuts her straight off with a scoff and an even harder kiss. "Oh, we both know I definitely do-," he punctuates with a needy grind of his hips in to hers.

Spinning her in his hold, he nudges her forward, whispering in her ear just how irresistible she is, and just how much he wants her.

They only make it to the other side of the kitchen before she spins back, kissing him desperately. 

Scooping her up from where she ends up, pressed into the fridge - no thanks to his rutting hips - he takes matters into his own hands and heads straight upstairs, intent on not losing any more time.

"H?", she whispers in his ear after sucking open-mouthed kisses up his neck. "Today's been a great day... Every day is, with you".

The end

A/N:  
That's all, folks!   
I really hope you've enjoyed Harry and Eloise's story as much as I've enjoyed dreaming it up and getting all 90 (!) chapters and almost 400,000 words (!!) of it out of my head?!  
Thank you so much for all the reads, kudos and comments. They're so motivating! Xx


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